


Golden Days

by loveandwar007, radiowrittenheart



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: -chants- pines pines pines, BECAUSE KIDLETS ARE A THING, Co-Written, Confessions, Family Secrets, Family Shenanigans, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grunkle4Grandpa, Heart-to-Heart, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Interspecies Relationship(s), JUST GRAB SOME TISSUES, Jewish Pines Family, Late Night Conversations, Mention of Character Death, Mild Language, everything but the kitchen sink, how did this happen, oh gee what am i forgetting to tag, yoooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-05-23 06:39:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6108235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveandwar007/pseuds/loveandwar007, https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiowrittenheart/pseuds/radiowrittenheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Second chances for a second summer in Gravity Falls. A new set of twins, new adventures and most importantly, new mysteries. But whoever said that they lie in the forests of the elusive small town? Dipper and Mabel both find out that the biggest mystery was lying right under their noses the whole time, and Stan has a confession to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i. the night before - life goes on

**Author's Note:**

> how did this begin? we just don't know  
> actually  
> i was submitting a bunch of asks to pinesonfire.tumblr.com and we formed a mutual bond over CRUSHING EVERYONE'S HEARTS WITH THIS DUMB THEORY THAT'S RUINED OUR LIVES
> 
> so yeah. our fingers are worn to the bone but we're still pushing on. we decided to write this together
> 
> enjoy!!!

_Oh, don't you wonder when the light begins to fade?_  
  
_And the clock just makes the colors turn to grey_ ,  
  
_Forever younger - growing older just the same,_

_All the memories that we make will never change . . ._

 

_**~~~~** _

 

His feet made a hard scraping noise against the wooden stairs as he dragged himself to the attic, the only sound penetrating the silence that seemed deafening after the events of the past week. Of all the things Stan thought would happen when he first agreed to let those kids come stay with him for the summer, being forced to erase his mind in order to defeat a triangular dream demon to keep them safe sure wasn’t one of them. But thanks to that pig, and a healthy dose of Mabel’s scrapbooking, Stan was finally beginning to piece everything about his life back together.

_Everything._

How could he have gone almost the entire summer without telling them? It was criminal, that’s what it was. Stan’s worst crime to date -- and he had committed some pretty bad ones. His office had been in absolute shambles when he entered it, debris and torn papers scattered about, drawers pulled open and flung onto the floor. Not that it was ever that neat to begin with, but having to use your house as a … what did Soos call it? “Mecha”? That kid was something else. Whatever it was, it sure did a number on his brother’s shack. But the office was all Stan, his belongings decorated it for thirty years. And Ford, rather than acting resentful about it, suggested he go through his things as he cleaned them up, piecing together his lengthy past long before Dipper and Mabel were born. So he did. And he had.

 _Alright, Stan, here’s what we’re gonna do_ , the old man coaxed himself as he reached the landing, rounding the corner to continue ascending to the attic. _Whichever kid’s still up, you tell ‘em. You tell ‘em everything, every last little detail, got it?_ Although it was more likely, he was hoping with everything in him that it wasn’t Dipper. That kid was - well, not the most forgiving of the two. He had a chip on his shoulder that could have only been due to the Pines blood that ran thick in his veins. Could Stan blame himself for wanting to take the easier option? He was still dealing with the repercussions of a complete memory wipe, and the rush of a lifetime of regret coming back to haunt him was almost more than even the thick-skinned, tough-hearted bitter man could take.

He didn’t hear a sound as he approached the closed door to the bedroom the twins had taken up residence in for the past three months. Maybe they were both asleep. Maybe Stan was off the hook. _No, open the door you coward. You’re not gettin’ off that easy_. Imagining the voice as if it were his father’s almost made him braver, and he drew himself up before gently turning the knob. The room was dark apart from the slivers of moonlight trickling through the window.

Stan’s heart lurched when he glanced from one bed to the other. Dipper was asleep all right, but Mabel was far from drowsy. The light of a flashlight shone through her pale pink comforter, a little giggle rippling in the silence. She had the covers up over her head, where she sat looking at something that amused her.

_Probably more scrapbooking._

In minutes, he was going to destroy her mood completely, possibly bring her world crashing down on her, and it killed Stan to do that to the little girl who had brought him nothing but joy. Moving closer to her bed, avoiding the floorboards he knew squeaked loudly so as not to wake her brother, Stan stood at the foot of Mabel’s bed.

“Knock knock,” he whispered quietly as he could. In a flash, the covers were off, and the face of his young grandniece was grinning toothily back at him.

“Good super early morning, Grunkle Stan,” Mabel said in a loud hush, and Stan put a finger to his lips.

“Hey, hey, let your brother sleep. I think he got about as much as I did the past week.”

Mabel nodded, glancing quickly over at Dipper before closing the scrapbook in her lap and sliding it to the side. “So what’s up?” she asked, holding the flashlight under her face as if she were about to tell a ghost story. “Need some more help remembering something? Business management? I actually remember a bunch of stuff from that weekend I ran the Shack, remember?”

“Heh, you bet I do.” He ruffled her hair lightly, a smile playing on his lips before it fell away again. “Nah I’m--I’m doing pretty good on my own right now, hon. I was goin’ through my office all night and…” He stopped.

Talking to her had always come so naturally; so much that the rehearsed speech in his head was fading away. Inhaling deeply, he knew he had to handle this delicately, yet directly enough that she would understand. If it was a lot for a man in his early sixties to take in at once, it had the potential to completely break an almost thirteen-year-old.

“Kid, why don’t ya come downstairs with me? I wanna show you somethin’.”

With all the gracefulness of a baby elephant, Mabel tumbled out of bed and fell right into Stan’s arms. He suppressed an “oof” and shushed her. Thankfully, Dipper did nothing but roll over under his covers, hugging a novel as if it were a teddy bear. Stan led Mabel across the hardwood floor, gently picking her up over the creaky floorboards and leading her out of the attic bedroom.

Big brown eyes wide and curious, Mabel stared at Stan intently. “What is it you want to show me?” she asked, her voice just barely a whisper.

Stan stammered, placing a hand on her shoulder. “C’mon,” he said softly, leading her downstairs. Rounding the corner, he silently took her small hand in his. She gripped it firmly in a sign of complete and total trust, and Stan’s heart clenched. He hadn't done a single damn thing to deserve her trust, and she was about to find out exactly why.

“Grunkle Stan, are you okay?” Her inquiry was timid, her tone small and soft, almost afraid. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, something’s wrong,” Stan replied as he shut the door to the office closed behind him. “And… something's great. And it's somethin’ I should've told you and your brother the moment you two stepped off that bus.”

“What is it?” Mabel asked, her hands reaching up to grip her long chocolate brown hair she twisted when she was feeling anxious.

“Don't be scared, pumpkin,” Stan knelt down to her level, placing both hands on her shoulders. “If anyone should be scared right now, it's me. And what you’re gonna think of me when I tell you that I’m…”

“You're what?”

Stan’s trailing off did little to ease her fears. He stood and walked over to his desk, pulling open the bottommost drawer. Gathering a stackful of faded yellowed black and white photographs, along with one worn-out photo album wrapped in abused black leather, he slowly made his way back to Mabel.

“I’m not _exactly_ the guy you’ve been led to believe I am, Mabel.” Shuffling the photos in his hands, he glanced longingly at one of them for a few moments. “It's a long complicated story. And it starts with a girl named Carla McCorkle.”

He held up the photo for Mabel to see, and a little gasp slipped past her lips. The young woman in the picture was not only beautiful, but looked very much like herself in about five years. She glanced between the photo and Stan; she was wide-eyed and he smiled ruefully.

“Still wanna hear the rest?”

“This lady - who is she?”

“Well, sweetie,” Stan lowered his voice even more, as if the walls themselves were listening in. And knowing both Ford and Dipper, they might be for all he knew. “She’s, uh, she's your grandma.” That was the easy part.

Mabel nodded in realization. “Ohhh, so this is Grandpa Shermie’s wife.”

Stan’s insides turned to ice and he swallowed with difficulty. Now came the hard part. “No, she's not his wife. She--she woulda been too old for him, way too old.” He sat down on the floor at last, pulling Mabel into his lap. “Carla was a girl--a _woman--_ I loved very much. We grew up together in Glass Shard Beach. She was one of the only friends Ford and me ever had.” _Ford and I. Grammer, Stanley._ He scowled, even in his own thoughts he could hear his brother correcting him. Shaking his already clouded mind clear, his attention went back to the little girl snuggled in his lap clutching the photo. “Carla baby. I gave her everything, and then I spoiled it all. She left me. But in a lot of ways, she never really did. I still see her all the time.”

He looked directly into Mabel’s eyes now when she glanced up at him bewildered. “I see her in your dad.” He brushed her messy bangs back from her face affectionately. “And I see so much of her in you and your brother.”

“Wait, w--wha--wait a sec.”

She figured it out. Smart as a whip, sometimes even smarter than her brainiac twin. He was prepared for almost any reaction from her, but it didn’t make the pain sting any less. Mabel jumped out of his lap and whirled around to face him, letting the photo flutter to the hardwood floor. The hardened old curmudgeon felt as if a piece of his heart had broken clean off as he practically watched her own heart shatter.

He nodded. “It’s true, pumpkin, it’s all true. Shermie’s not your … well, he’s not your biological grandpa.”

A million emotions ran across Mabel’s expression - and Stan expected a shriek, a stammer, all of the above. But instead, just watching her take a step back, face frozen in shock, somehow made him feel even worse than any other dramatic reaction might have.

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” she mumbled.

“Sure it does, sweetie,” Stan said, cracking a smile despite it all. “Carla and I - we were crazy in love for a few years. It was only a little while, but it was great; the best time of my life before you and Dipper came here.” He bit his lip to hold back a frown, and he picked up the photograph. “We went down different roads after a while. I didn’t know anythin’ until ‘bout five years later, my Ma somehow found my location and dialed me up. Told me I had a kid.”

Mabel had fallen flat on her rump, curled up on the hardwood floor and burying her arms and legs under her nightgown. Her eyes were downcast. “It doesn’t make sense,” she repeated.

Stan shook his head. “I thought the same thing,” he mumbled. “But I went back to Glass Shard Beach for the first time in what felt like forever and … and yeah. I met my son.” His gaze became watery, and he swallowed hard. “He was my responsibility now. But I couldn’t take care of him. So Shermie was in his teens at the time, and I gave him my son to raise as his own. That’s why you know Sherm as your grandpa a-and not me.”

“But my dad,” Mabel mumbled, wiping away tears. “Grunkle Stan, how could you do that?”

She didn’t know which term to use. But Grunkle was all she had ever known. It fit … didn’t it?

Stan shrugged. “I was desperate, had no money, and didn’t want my kid to go to a stranger,” he admitted. “Your dad was young enough, he was four or five at the time, but I didn’t wanna give up on him. I gave him a second chance.”

“So you lied to him his whole life,” Mabel said, her voice wavering. “Saying you were his uncle.”

“Yeah, sort of,” he said, the wince visible in his expression and tone of voice. “But your dad was always smart. Few years later, he knew Sherm couldn’t be his father, and started asking questions. At this point, Ford was gone, and I was taking his spot. I told your dad half the truth.” Stan rubbed the place between his eyes and nose in frustration, and a heavy sigh escaped him. “Now that Ford’s back … I gotta tell him the whole thing.”

Mabel tried to bite her tongue, but found it impossible. “So you lied to everyone?” she spat out. “Just because you couldn’t look after your son?”

Stan looked at Mabel with heavy eyes; “Back then, having kids when you weren’t married was a huge deal, Mabel, hon. I can only imagine the hell Carla went through when your dad was born. And she was without me, runnin’ around with hippies and junkies.” _She’s old enough_ , he told himself. _She should understand this._ “Somewhere along the way, she musta went back home and lived with my Ma for a while. She always thought of Carla as the daughter she never had, anyway. Long story short is … well, yeah, I lied. A lot. But I guess at the time, I thought I was doing the wrong thing for the right reason.”

She was quiet. Too quiet. At this point, Mabel had practically gone into Sweater Town - she was almost rocking back and forth as she tried to avoid eye contact with Stan.

 _You screwed up again, Stanley,_ he was screaming in his head. _You broke your granddaughter’s heart and now she hates you. You idiot._ But he was gonna fix it. He had to. So he did what he could - he took the photo album out of his lap, and slid it across the hardwood floor.

“Here,” he whispered, untying the string that held it close. It burst open and he began to flip through the pages.

Mabel gasped as Stan showed her the photographs. A rueful laugh escaped him, and he shook his head.

“Ya look so much like her, y’know,” he mused. “I tried to convince your parents to name you Carly when you were born, but they liked Mabel better.” Stan smiled, hesitantly reaching out to ruffle her hair as a plea for her to open up, just a little. “Good on them. It suits you better, anyway.”

After a few moments, Mabel took the photo album and flipped through it. Days of the 60’s and 70’s, tattered photographs, most of them taken from a Polaroid and others from photo booths. Stan was in some of them, so was Ford, a few cameos from their family and others were just Carla. Faded and worn at the edges, but others in pristine condition. Memories of her family, preserved. She couldn’t help but look in awe.

“Little Flower,” Stan huffed, pointing to a picture of Carla in a grad gown with a bunch of other girls. “Went there for her last year. Her folks tried to separate me and her. Never worked.”

With Mabel sitting on the floor, flipping through the pages and much more relaxed, she noticed Stan’s eyes linger on a certain picture.

He sighed, pointing to it. Him and Carla, sitting on the hood of his car, cuddling and kissing. “One of our last nights in Glass Shard Beach,” he said softly. “She said she loved me. I told her I was gonna marry her someday. That’s when Ford threw the camera at us.”

Mabel giggled and bestowed a bittersweet smile. “You guys were so happy,” she said. “And then?”

She was asking an unspoken question she could never fathom the answer to.

Stan shrugged. “Over the years, I guess I loved money more than Carla,” he muttered. “I was in my twenties and stupid. I left Pennsylvania to make a name for myself, and Carla wanted to stop running. Never saw her again.”

“But you kept all of these pictures,” Mabel piped up. “So you still loved her.”

“I always have,” Stan mumbled. “Even now. Even if she’s gone.”

That small smile turned into a frown, and Mabel’s voice cracked; “She’s dead?”

“Yeah,” Stan whispered. He noticed Mabel’s face crumple up, so he reached out to her. “Oh, hey, sweetie, don’t get upset. It’s okay. It was a long time ago, a really long time back in the 80’s or somethin’. I - I couldn’t go to her funeral,” His own eyes, just as big and brown as hers, filled with tears. “She would’ve loved ya.”

Mabel kept her gaze focused on the pictures. “Does Dipper know?” she mumbled.

Stan’s small shake of his head made her face crumple up yet again.

“You need to tell him,” she spoke up, her tongue feeling like sandpaper as she talked. “Please.”

Stan frowned. “I will, I will,” he mumbled.

Mabel swallowed hard. “Please, Grandpa,” she choked out, the word feeling foreign to both of them. “He needs to know about his family. That’s the biggest, stupidest mystery he should care about.”

A halfhearted laugh escaped Stan. “Okay, okay,” he said. “I’ll tell him when the time’s right. I promise. Just … leave it to me, okay? Promise.”

Mabel nodded, flipping to the next page in the photo album.

He stammered, and hesitated before gently sliding out a picture. “This was the day me and Ford graduated,” he said, holding out the photo to Mabel. “It was the last good day, y’know? Everyone who I cared about was there, and I thought maybe I had a chance in life. I had a good family, my brother was off to do great things and I had one helluva girl by my side…”

“But,” Mabel sighed. “That was the night you and Ford got all stupid.”

“Yeah,” Stan muttered. His gaze darted up, and his shoulders slumped. “Here.” He held the photo out. “Take it.”

Mabel let out a squeak. “Why?” she mumbled.

Stan cracked a smile. “Something to take home with ya,” he said. “Until next summer.”

Her small hands were shaking as she took the photograph, gently rubbing out the creases. She stared at it for a few moments, and it was clear to see that Mabel was choking up a little. Just by seeing this, Stan knew he had to keep trying, no matter what.

So that was what he did.

“You understand where I’m comin’ from?” he spoke up.

“I guess so,” Mabel said, with a wistful tone of voice. “You do a lot of things for your family, and that’s great, but, y’know,” She bit the inside of her cheek, eyes darting up to look at her grandfather; her true one.

Stan nodded. “I go ‘bout it all the wrong ways,” he mumbled. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

Mabel placed the photo in her lap, her gaze focused on him as she looked up. “You can’t lie to me anymore,” she said. “Or Ford. Or Dipper. Anyone. Ever. I _hate_ lying, and you know it,” Her eyes filled with tears, bittersweet ones, and she swallowed hard. “And now, I hate secrets too.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Stan murmured, outstretching his arms - and Mabel dove right in for a hug. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Mabel muttered. “Just don’t do it again.”

She became relaxed in his grip, and with a slight grunt, he stood up, assisting her to her feet as well. He looked down at her with a half-smile, which she managed to return.

Stan released a sigh; “C’mon. Let’s get some sleep. You got a birthday to celebrate tomorrow.”

“Later today,” Mabel giggled.

He led her out of his office, following her down the hallway. Then, a heavy sigh escaped him as he watched Mabel shuffle upstairs, clutching the photo tightly in her hands and holding her head high. Such a brave, beautiful and good girl. Stan smiled in spite of himself, and watched until she disappeared in the dim darkness of the attic - so he turned on his heel once he heard the door click closed.

_Finally._

Half of his heart was repaired. He did what he could. At least, for now.

For now.

Stan heaved out an uneasy breath, and took a few slow steps into the kitchen, only to be startled by a shadowy figure drifting through. He flicked on the switch, wincing at the light.

“Geez, Ford,” he muttered. “What are you doin’ up so late?”

Ford let out a soft _“oh”_ , giving an apathetic shrug. “Could ask you the same thing,” he challenged. “I, myself, can’t sleep.” Ironically enough, as he said this, he poured himself a cup of coffee from the decrepit coffee maker.  “Would you like some?”

Stan glanced at the ridiculous cuckoo clock on the wall, and shrugged.

4am. Early enough.

“Why not,” he grumbled.

As he plopped himself in a rickety wooden chair with one leg shorter than the rest, Stan ran a hand through his hair. Ford was making the coffee with all of the fixings; his was black with a sprinkle of sugar, and Stan’s with as much candy-flavored creamer as one could fit in the cup with just barely any room left. Balancing the two hot mugs in his hands, Ford placed them down before he sat next to his brother, wobbling in his seat as well.

“So,”

“What?”

Stan coughed out a huff, side-eyeing his brother. Ford tapped the table with his thumb and sixth finger, an old tic from childhood. The silence was so thick, it was almost touchable.

But again, Ford was the one bold enough to break it.

“Something tells me it wasn’t just lack of sleep that kept you up,” he mused.

“Yeah,” Stan retorted, guzzling a sip of his coffee. He shook with every breath after he swallowed it down. Then, he held his face in one hand, coughing out another sigh. “I told her, Ford. Mabel knows now.” He didn’t have to look up to know his twin was wide-eyed and probably had his jaw dropped. “Don’t give me another ration of BS, I know I shouldn’t have lied to ‘em.”

Ford released a soft “huh” and continued; “No, Stanley. I’m not going to reprimand you for tha- wait.”

Whoomp. There it was.

“Mabel? What about Dipper?”

“I’ll tell ‘im when I tell him,” Stan said.

Ford rubbed his temples. “No,” he groaned. “Stanley. Tomorrow is their last day here. You could take the boy aside-”

Stan scoffed. “Yeah, and ruin his thirteenth birthday? ‘How was your birthday, Dipper?’, kids will ask him, and what is he gonna say?” His tone of voice lowered to a harsh, heartbreaking whisper. “He’ll be all ‘oh, great! I found out my grandfather was lying to me the whole time!’ - pile it on with the end of the world, and they had the best summer of their lives.”

With sarcasm so heavy it was practically dripping from his mouth, Ford replied; “And yet you didn’t think that way when it came to telling Mabel.”

“She’s … she’s different,” Stan mumbled. “She understood, just like that.” He snapped for effect. “Dipper’s more like me than either of us wanna admit. Kid’s gonna hold a grudge against me for a while. I don’t want that.”

“Don’t you think the longer you wait, the longer the ignorance in the end will be?” Ford asked.

Stan paused. He pushed his coffee away, and leaned back in his chair.

The eerie silence and stillness of summer nights danced through the window and a gentle breeze coursed through the broken-down Shack. The two brothers sat in silence, their coffee slowly growing cold during the pause between them both. Then, Ford’s heartstrings were yanked at as he watched his brother lean forward, laughing ruefully and shaking his head.

“I dunno, Stanford,” Stan muttered, his sharp Jersey accent becoming profound. “I just dunno anymore.”

Ford didn’t hesitate in the slightest as he reached out, gently patting his brother on the shoulder in an attempt of comfort. “It’s alright, Stanley,” he said. “I’m sure it’ll all work out.”

Stan snorted. “Yeah,” he retorted. “We can only hope.”

Neither of them noticed the cardinal fluttering to the window as the stars disappeared and dawn began to rise.

 


	2. ii. over again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second summer begins, and mysteries already start to unravel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao @ the one anon: sorry honey this ain't the AU you're looking for
> 
> just good old fashioned Pines family  
> w your usual happiness and heartbreak
> 
> thx for the feedback, enjoy C2

_Life doesn’t discriminate between the sinners & the saints,_

_It takes and it takes and it takes,_

_And we keep living anyway,_

_We rise, and we fall, and we break._

 

**_~~~~_ **

 

“I haven’t seen you this excited since Soos told you profits were soaring,” Ford remarked in a bemused tone as he and Stan sat on the porch of the Shack. The brothers had only gotten back from their boat trip a couple of weeks ago and the town already felt like a very different Gravity Falls than the one they’d left behind. There were still crazy beasts and creatures running around in the woods that, according to Ford, wouldn’t be disappearing any time soon. But among the townsfolk, there seemed to be more of an understanding of the weirdness left behind by extraterrestrial life forms.

Soos and Melody were getting on pretty well with the Shack, far better than Stan had in his first year of business. Soos insisted it was because Stan had already built up the tourist trap so well in the past thirty years, but Stan knew it was because Soos was more than just a good businessman. He had a good heart. Finally, Stan was starting to realize what Mabel had meant when she challenged him that she could run the Shack better than him. True, Mabel had been too lenient, not one of them would deny that, but Soos seemed to have found that happy medium between firm business strategizer and fair charismatic attraction owner. He was great with the kids that showed up, something Stan had always struggled with - the kids didn’t have any money to spend, so he figured why bother.

“The kids are the ones who are gonna talk to their parents and tell ‘em to buy stuff,” Soos had said wisely. “You make the kids happy, you make the register happy.” He patted the top of the aging cash register proudly. “He’s a hungry little guy after all.”

Things really seemed to be looking up for the sleepy town when Stan and Ford had returned. So much that Stan started to get down on himself, thinking maybe the town had gotten along better because he hadn’t been in it for a year. Ford had put his arm around him, a now more frequent display of affection between them, and looked him dead in the eye.

“Stanley, this town wouldn’t be here - none of these people would be here - if it wasn’t for you. Don’t ever forget that.”

With that in mind, it had been a long time since Stan had been this happy. And with that bus due to pull up any moment now, his heart was about to burst through his chest at the thought of seeing those two knuckleheads again.

“Well, ya know,” Stan finally responded, trying to shrug it off. “Seems a little less exciting around here without ‘em, ya know? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad the town’s back to, er, semi-normal. But I kinda miss those kids gettin’ mixed up in some trouble every day. It’s good for ‘em, havin’ little adventures like that.”

“But,” Ford went more somberly, “you know what you need to do before any of that, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know Ford, you’ve only been remindin’ me every day since I called Lex up!” Stan shouted irritably. He’d had to promise Ford that he would tell the man he’d called his nephew for over forty years the whole truth. Thanks to an “incident”, Stan was no longer allowed in the state of California, so had begrudgingly been forced to tell him everything over the phone. There had been a lot of anger, a lot of tears. And at long last, when Stan heard the voice of his son say that he forgave him, the old man had sat in his office and wept harder than he had in years.

“Do my kids know?” Lex had asked thickly, tears evident in his voice.

“Mabel does,” Stan had replied gruffly, pressing the heel of his hand to his eyes to stem the flow of tears. “Poor kid’s been hangin’ onto that for months.” He’d paused. “You can tell Dipper if ya want--”

“No,” came the stern reply. “This is between you and me, Unc--Dad.” He’d drawn a shaking breath and let it out. “It’s _your_ responsibility to tell Dipper.”

“I know,” Stan replied in that moment on the porch, simultaneously promising Ford, his son, and Mabel. “I know…” he repeated.

And as if on cue, the bus from Piedmont rounded the corner. Ford leapt up from his seat and bounded down the worn wooden steps. “They’re here!”

“And you said I was too excited!” Stan yelled as he ran after him. Two faces peered out at them from the bus window, eyes wide and smiles contagious. Mabel was banging on the window while Dipper joined in waving with her, and both men felt their eyes well up in spite of themselves.

“Look at us sentimental old farts,” Stan remarked, just as the bus door slid open.

“Great Uncle Ford!” both twins cried out, throwing themselves at Ford first and gripping him tightly around the neck.

“Kids!” Ford exclaimed, his voice cracking just a bit. “Look at you! Has it really only been a year?” He set them back down on their feet and beamed at them. “We have so much to tell you both.”

“We have a lot to tell you, too,” Dipper grinned back at the man he’d used to see as a sort of mentor figure. Now, he was just his amazing uncle. And that was enough for both of them.

“Oh, I get it, Poindexter gets all the attention like usual,” Stan said in mock disappointment, giving the kids a wink. Before he knew it, he had been tackled in a whirl of brown hair and two pairs of strong arms. He hung onto them as if he never wanted to let go again, and before he knew it, despite having never been the mushy type before, had given each of them a kiss on the sides of their heads. Due to the circumstances, he just couldn’t help it.

“C’mon, turn around, lemme get a good look at ya,” Stan said, releasing the kids from the embrace.

“Look!” Mabel beamed, stretching her smile wide with her fingers. “I’m free!” Her smile was now perfect, and braces-free. “Got them off right after I came home! No retainer either!”

Stan chuckled. “Would ya look at that?” he mused. “And Dipper,” He raised an eyebrow. “Is my eyesight that bad or are you genuinely taller your sister?” He backed away, dramatically acting as if he couldn’t tell the difference. “Ford, are we going senile already?”

With a roll of his eyes, Ford shook his head; “No, Stanley, we’re not. Dipper seems to have grown quite a bit.”

True to the statement, he did tower over his sister by a good few inches. “And I shaved my face for the very first time last week,” Dipper said proudly.

“Looked like he used a piece of glass,” Mabel stage-whispered. “See?” She poked her brother’s cheek. “Right there.”

“That’s acne, doofus,” Dipper mumbled.

“Yeah, you got that too, bro-bro.”

“Hey, you have no room to ridicule me, not when you and Mom came back from that shopping trip-”

Mabel folded her arms, and looked away. “Don’t ask,” she grumbled when Stan and Ford went wide-eyed.

Dipper shrugged. “Let’s just say it involves metaphors to straitjackets,” he said.

The elder Pines twins released _“oh”_ ’s and nodded slowly. Ever the calm one, Ford slung both duffel bags over his shoulders and grinned. “Whelp,” he declared. “Who’s ready to go back to the Shack for the first time in what feels like forever?”

“We are!” Dipper and Mabel cheered, instantly bolting towards the Shack, almost tackling each other on the way up the stairs.

“By the way, Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford, how was your epic fishing trip?”

“Uneventful,” Stan replied sarcastically. “We just beat up a few squids and Sixer here punched a shark.”

Ford threw the bags onto the porch, and spoke up; “Two sharks, actually. And technically, I didn’t punch them, I just jabbed the beasts between the eyes-”

Stan groaned; “Geez, Poindexter, I try to make you sound cool and you shut yourself down.” He swung the door open, letting the kids bolt in, their eyes looking everywhere at once to see if anything had changed. “No, but yeah, we got stuck a few places here and there, almost ended up in the Bermuda Triangle-”

“We were nowhere near it-”

“And Ford got us both banned from Monte Carlo.”

“How was I supposed to know that flipping the table and running is an illegal move in Blackjack?!” Ford said exasperatedly. “It works all of the time in Dimension 78-KZ!”

Stan gave his brother the side-eye. “Exactly,” he declared. “This is Earth, buddy, get used to it.”

“Mini-twins! How you lil dudes been?” Soos exclaimed as he came out from the back room. He instantly absorbed Dipper and Mabel as they tackled him for a hug. Effortlessly, he let them hang from his arms and he lifted them up.

Mabel giggled, slightly swinging from Soos’s arm. “Great!” she beamed. “How’s the Shack?”

Soos grinned; “It’s still standing, so I’d say I get a few points for that!”

“I’m sure you’ve done more than kept it standing, Soos,” Dipper assured, letting go and falling flat on his feet. “Seems like you’ve managed the place pretty well. And whoa, what’s that-?” He laughed, taking a step back at the new ‘attraction’ on the wall. “Make your own constellation?”

Soos chuckled. “Yeah, I was missing you dudes one night and thought it up,” he admitted. “We’re sellin’ ‘em like hot cakes, ‘specially your prints.” He pointed to the top two pictures. “The Little Dipper and, y’know, Mabel, you’re Polaris ‘cause it’s near one of the Dippers.”

Mabel released a soft “ooh” of intrigue and kept swinging from Soos’s arm, until she noticed something shimmering in the corner of her eye. She squinted a little in the sunlight and noticed a ring on Soos’s finger, and poked at it.

“You trying to get a pair of brass knuckles like Stan?” she teased as she hopped down to the floor.

“Huh? Oh, uh,” Soos stammered, eyeing Melody, who was behind the back counter. “Um, well, uh-”

In her always laidback manner, Melody gave a shrug and lifted her own hand. “Yeah,” she laughed. “Me and Soos are gonna get matching pairs of brass knuckles one of these days.”

It took a minute, but after a minute of brow furrowing and _“hmm”_ ’ing, Mabel gasped loudly in a rather over-dramatic manner. “You got married - without me?!” she said, placing both hands over her heart. “How could you?! I was gonna plan your wedding, and it was going to be super sparkly and there’d be a fondue fountain and everything!”

Soos laughed, “Sorry, Mabel-dawg, we kinda just went and signed the papers. Nothin’ too big, y’know?”

Mabel sighed. “I guess I understand,” she smiled. “I’m just happy for you two.”

“Well, y’know, when he said ‘we’ll be Mr. and Mrs. Mystery together’, how could I say no?” Melody teased. “I like working behind the register better, anyway.”

“You’re keeping him in line, right, Mel?” Stan spoke up as he carried in the last armful of luggage. “Sweet Moses, Dipper, whatdya put in these bags of yours - bricks?”

Dipper rolled his eyes; “You pronounced ‘books’ wrong, Grunkle Stan.”

Stan waved a hand; “Same difference.” He dropped the duffel bag at Dipper’s feet, and groaned. “I think I pulled somethin’.”

Mabel was spinning around on the stool behind the counter, squealing with joy and Ford was eyeing her with slight amusement. It was just like last summer, but with so much more. No worries, no monsters - other than the usual ones, of course; just carefree and happiness for the next three months.

“Alright, alright, enough lollygagging,” Stan said. “You kids go get settled in. Your room’s the same as you left it.”

“Did you put the cool carpet in it?” Mabel spoke up, with a smirk.

“I threw that piece of junk in the trash,” Stan argued- and then paused under his brother’s gaze. “Uh, I mean,”

Ford groaned, rubbing his nose. “I was hoping you’d do that,” he said. “At least you did one thing right last year.”

Stan stuck his tongue out, just like when they were kids all over again. “Remember who punched a demon _and_ a pterodactyl in the face,” he said. Of course, this got a laugh out of his twin, and they shared a grin. “Now, you kids better unpack or I’m not gonna order pizza.”

“I brought edible glitter!” Mabel said, fist-pumping the air.

Dipper groaned out a “no” and shook his head.

“Everyone from the Shack is back!” Soos cheered, lifting Mabel up onto the counter and having her shimmy out a victory dance - and he placed a strange little oddity next to her. Both her and the “it” squealed, but each for entirely different reasons.

Mabel lifted the _thing,_ snuggling it against her chest. “Waddles and Gompers had babies!” she exclaimed.

“That’s scientifically impos-” Dipper stopped short, stammering when his sister held the creature out. “What the…”

“It’s easy to explain, little dude,” Soos said, placing his fez on the nature-defying creature. “Waddles and Gompers were the only ones who had fun during Weirdmageddon. Then ‘bout a month or two ago, we got a bunch of little pig-goat things runnin’ ‘round. They’re pretty rad.”

Mabel sat on the counter, swinging her legs and screaming with joy as a whole litter tumbled in.

Soos introduced them as It, Thursday, Christmas Eve, Sabrina, Olive, and the one in Mabel’s arms was MJ, which was short for Mabel Junior. She laughed and squealed even harder as each little pig-goat fusion scrambled up to her, clawing at the counter and everyone in the room.

“I’m a grandma!” Mabel declared, hopping off the counter and petting Waddles. “Aw, look! You’re a daddy!”

She shoved MJ into Waddles’ face and he licked his strange offspring, causing it to squeal. Waddles was obviously startled and ran out of the Shack, which summoned Mabel to yell after him, “You can’t ditch this kind of commitment, Waddles! You have a wife and six crazy-cute kidlets to look after now!”

“Kidlets?” Dipper said slowly.

“Yeah, baby goats are kids and baby pigs are piglets,” Mabel said, shoving the ‘kidlet’ in her brother’s face. “These cutie patooties are both so I smooshed it together!”

Dipper winced. “I wouldn’t exactly call that thing ‘cute’,” he mumbled.

Mabel rolled her eyes. “Well, you’re _their_ grunkle so be nice,” she said.

The ‘kidlets’ identified as Christmas Eve and Thursday pawed at Dipper’s bare legs, causing him to wince and whine ever-so-slightly before he picked them both up, letting them squirm in his arms.

“Guess they’re not so bad,” he mumbled.

Leading the little troupe, allowing the litter to follow her like a line of ducklings, Mabel headed upstairs with a duffel bag in one hand and a kidlet in the other with her brother by her side. Once they disappeared, Ford’s smile slightly faded and he nodded at his brother. Stan groaned, rubbing his temples. Nothing needed to be said, for Soos and Melody had already started backing out of the room and were gone in a flash.

“So,” Ford mused. “Are you going to tell Dipper or not?”

“Nah, I was just thinking about keeping him in the dark for a few more years,” Stan grumbled. “Of course I’m gonna tell him, Ford. I just… I need time,”

Ford scoffed. “You’ve had almost nine months to tell him, Stanley. You had chances,”

Stan practically glared at his brother. “I didn’t wanna tell him something like this over the phone or letter or ‘texting’, whatever it is that kids do these days,” he retorted. “I’ll man up and tell Dipper sometime soon, alright? But not tonight. Let the kids be kids,”

“Grunkle Foooord, Sabrina chewed up your lab coat thingy!” Mabel called from another room.

“Just for a little while longer,” Stan finished.

Ford frowned; “Mabel’s going to burst sooner or later.”

Stan bit his lip, running a hand across his face. “Yeah, I know,” he sighed.

With a heavy exhale, Ford stepped forward, and pulled his brother into a reluctant hug. “I’m sure it’ll work out, Stanley,” he said. “It might be rough, but we always pull through. We’re Pines.” He laughed a little when his brother returned the hug.

“Yeah,” Stan muttered. “Which, ergo, means we get ourselves into a lotta shit.”

Ford chuckled. “Can’t argue with that,” he said, pulling away and looking at his brother. “Just … good luck, I guess.”

Stan managed a halfway smile; “Thanks. I’m gonna need a lot of it.”

 

* * *

 

The evening had been eventful, that was for sure. As promised, Stan had blew a good fifty dollars on nothing but pizza from the new joint in town. And after much begging, he gave a few dollars to Dipper and Mabel to spend on candy at the convenience store. After a few good-hearted board games (with the exception of Stan and Ford nearly strangling each other over Monopoly), they had all settled down to watch a few films to close the night out.

It was late now. They had all curled up on and or around Stan’s easy chair, some of them half-asleep. Yet Mabel was wide awake. This was fun. Lots of fun. A great beginning to a summer full of potential. But… something was tugging inside of her. Something hurt, and she knew it.

Something was hurting her _heart_.

The credits were rolling on their fifth Disney movie of the night when Mabel tugged on Stan’s sleeve. He stirred out of his sleep, mumbling incoherently as he woke up.

“Mabel? Kid, whatdya want?” he groaned.

“Gra - uh, Grunkle Stan?” she whispered. “Can I talk to you?”

Stan perked up, and gently sat up in his chair. “Alright, alright,” he muttered. “Just gimme a minute.”

Mabel hopped out of the recliner, landing perfectly on her feet and shuffled into the hallway with Stan right behind her; understandably a good distance away and taking his own sweet time. She hesitated for a moment, peering into the living room before she finally spoke.

“You gotta tell Dipper,” she hissed, pointing to her sleeping brother, who was using Waddles as a pillow.

“I said I will,” Stan assured.

“But,” Mabel stammered, looking at the floor. “You could’ve called him when we were in Piedmont. Over Winter Break, or on the weekends or whatever.”

Stan shook his head. “I wanna tell him in person,” he declared.

Mabel gripped at her hair, twisting and twirling a lock. “But I can’t keep this secret anymore,” she mumbled. “You know I hate secrets and lying and all of that stuff. It’s stupid.” She blinked back tears, not letting them fall. “I - I don’t wanna tell him, but at the same time, I do.”

“Mabel, I told you, I’ll take care of it,” Stan said, his voice getting a little assertive.

“But it’s not fair,” Mabel argued.

Stan sighed, his shoulders slumped. “I know,” he admitted in a soft voice. “But just give it time, okay? I’ll tell him real soon, and then you won’t have to worry. C’mere, _bubbala,_ ” He bent down, opening his arms to her. Mabel took a slow step forward, accepting the embrace.

He was tired. He was worn out. His eyes were weary, his smile stiff and rarely did she hear Yiddish come from his mouth. Stan was at the end of his rope, and Mabel could tell just by looking at him. Stress was coming back to haunt him, after many carefree months at sea. Then again, maybe it was imagination, but she could’ve sworn but Stan was actually getting sick and tired of lying and keeping secrets.

“It’ll be okay, Grandpa,” Mabel whispered.

Stan choked out a laugh as he pulled away. “Yeah, I know,” he said.

Mabel sniffled, and smiled. “Can we watch one last movie before bed?” she asked innocently.

“Sure,” Stan replied. “But don’t expect me to stay awake for the whole thing.”

“Okay,” Mabel giggled, taking his hand and dragging him back in. As she fiddled with the DVD’s, the clattering must have woken up Dipper, who had crawled next to her, browsing through the selection - and Mabel tried to hide it, she really did. But he noticed her frown.

Dipper nudged his sister; “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Mabel faked a laugh, almost close to her usual one. “You know Meg’s death always makes me cry like a baby,” she said.

Dipper rolled his eyes. “But she doesn’t actually die,” he argued.

“For, like, five minutes, she’s actually dead!” Mabel retorted. “And now-” She giggled uncontrollably as she held up her own choice.

Making a gagging noise, Dipper shook his head. “Please, no more Princess movies,” he muttered. “What about that new one? Um, with the superheroes and the marshmallow robot?” He pouted at his sister’s whine of protest; “Let’s just ask Grunkle Stan what he wants to watch.”

“I personally don’t care,” Stan piped up. “Just don’t sing too loudly or I’m gonna get a migraine.”

Dipper didn’t even notice Mabel’s frown this time. He was too busy going to grab more snacks with Ford and they were chatting about how _The Hunchback of Notre Dame_ was incredibly flawed compared to the book. Mabel wasn’t sure how to feel at this point. Ignored, maybe. Betrayed, perhaps. Confused, most of all.

She sighed, shoving the DVDs back onto the shelf. “Maybe we should just go to bed,” she spoke up. “It’s almost eleven.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you upstairs in a bit,” Dipper called. “Grunkle Stan, can we microwave this egg to see what happens?!”

“What in the world are you teaching him, Ford?” Stan hollered.

“It’s in the name of science, Stanley!”

Mabel raised both eyebrows and shook her head. She took the last bite of her abandoned candy bar that had Waddles had faithfully been protecting, and she gave Stan one last hug before she headed upstairs to get ready for bed. The attic never did change, it even still had all of Dipper’s trash from mystery days and Waddles’s food dish, which the kidlets had figured also worked as a good place to nap.

She patted Olive on the head and watched the rest of the litter tumble over each other cutely. That brought something of a smile to her face. They ran around her ankles as she opened the clutch on her suitcase, causing all of her sweaters and other clothing to spill out.

Miraculously, she found her new nightgown in the mess. Pink, with a cow getting abducted by aliens on it.

She trudged into the bathroom with it, and was just about to get ready for bed - when she heard a soft “bang” and laughter, a bit of yelling too. A sigh escaped Mabel. That was how her family worked during the summer and she wouldn’t have had it any other way…

...well, that wasn’t entirely true.

But she tried pushing - no, _shoving_ that thought into the back of her mind. Just for a little longer.

 _C’mon, Mabel,_ she told herself as she changed into her nightgown. _You got this. You’re gonna be fourteen soon, you can keep a secret for a little while longer._ Emphasis on little. Almost every time she looked at Dipper, she felt compelled to say something - and thought of the devil.

She heard the door to their bedroom swing open, and footsteps trudged through the attic. Mabel creaked open the bathroom door, and waved at her brother.

“Hey,” she said. “What the heck were you and Grunkle Ford doing down there?”

Dipper lifted It and MJ out of his way as he walked over to his sister, and the whole litter of kidlets dashed out when they noticed an open door. He shrugged, and faced Mabel; “He thought it would be cool to try and see what happens if we microwaved random stuff. We put two eggs in the shell in there.”

Mabel raised both eyebrows and playfully shook her head as she began to brush her teeth.

However, her eyes lit up when her brother started telling her what happened, how amusing it was, and his laughter was echoing off of the thin walls of the attic.

“And the second egg caused the microwave to pop open! It was hilarious!” Dipper said in between laughs. “Oh, man, Mabel, it’s great to be back and just, y’know, doing normal stuff. Not fighting gnomes and zombies and all of that stuff.” He paused to stifle another laugh, but failed. “And Grunkle Stan was so mad, he wasn’t going to let me go to bed unless I cleaned it up.”

Grunkle Stan this, Grunkle Stan that, **_gah._ **

It both disgusted and upset Mabel. Dipper was so oblivious, so lost - and Stan just wouldn’t tell him already.

“That’s cool,” Mabel said, shoving her toothbrush every which way in her mouth. “But, y’know,” She spit out her toothpaste into the sink. “Maybe we’ll find new, less crazy adventures. I’ve been chatting with Candy, Grenda and Pacifica in the group chat on Skype and-”

Dipper was ignoring her.

“What was that, Grunkle Stan?” he hollered down the stairs. “Really?! Mabel! Wendy called and said she’s gonna initiate us into our first teenage summer on Saturday!”

That made Mabel crack a real smile. “Double awesome!” she declared. “Best summer of our lives?”

She raised a hand for a high five and Dipper slapped her palm.

“Best summer of our lives,” he promised.

Another promise Mabel swore she wasn’t going to break. She just couldn’t. A few more minutes of small talk before she took the blankets out from her suitcase and threw them onto the bed, jumping into the pile and wrapping herself up. Of course, it wasn’t lights out for Dipper, oh no.

“Did you have to bring every book on the school’s summer reading list?” Mabel groaned. “They don’t even actually test to see if you’ve read it.”

“Oh, I know,” Dipper said, cracking open the first novel he had bought before they left. “But this year’s selection is amazing.”

Mabel rolled her eyes; “You say that every year, bro.”

He already got involved with the book. Oh, well. She was only concerned because the size of it suggested it could be used as a doorstop. Hopefully, Dipper didn’t plan on reading the entire thing tonight. With a sigh of doubt, Mabel turned away from her brother, shut her eyes and tried to get forty-winks.

 

* * *

  


That was impossible. The pen clicking. The mutters. The fact Dipper read out loud sometimes. Most importantly, the light. Mabel had been trying to sleep for hours - couldn’t Dipper just put his stupid book down and at least pretend to sleep already? **_Ugh._ **

“Dipper,” Mabel groaned as she rolled around in bed. “Can you turn out the light? It’s past midnight,”

“Hold on, Mabel,” Dipper replied, his eyes never leaving the book. “I just wanna finish this chapter - I need to know if my prediction is right! I have a hunch that Desiree’s aunt is actually her mother!” He clicked his pen with excitement, chewing on his lip as he zipped through the page.

Mabel let out a soft _“oh”_ and turned over to face the wall again. “That’s cool, I guess,” she mumbled.

How typical of her brother. Invested in mysteries from books and lore rather than his own family…  “Dipper?” Maybe fatigue was to blame, but any self-assurance she had gotten into bed with had gone completely out the window. Her heart was racing, and she honestly didn’t know how much more of this she could take. If Stan didn’t tell Dipper soon, she was going to explode. “Dipper, can I ask you something?”

“Mm,” Dipper mumbled, his nose still buried in the novel.

“Has Stan mentioned anything … kinda _weird_ to you since we got back?”

“Yeah, he said Pacifica actually came by the Shack and asked how we were doing,” Dipper chuckled. “If that’s not weird, I don't know what is.”

Mabel huffed, but refused to flip around and look at her brother. She couldn’t. She just couldn’t look right at him, and lie to his face anymore. “Dipper, I’m being serious,” she mumbled, rolling onto her stomach and talking into the mattress. “Would you just listen?”

“And I _seriously_ wanna finish this book, so--”

“Forget the stupid book!” Mabel yelled out, involuntarily shoving her hands over her ears. “Haven’t you noticed how messed up our family is?”

“Stan’s twin brother that we never knew about being lost to an interdimensional portal for thirty years?” Dipper said, having the typical lilt of what could only be defined as sarcasm that the Pines could perfect. “Yeah, I think I’m starting to absorb how weird that was.”

“I’m not talking about the science-y weird stuff,” Mabel shook her head. “I mean … like …” There was no other way to get around this. She had to come out and say it. After a whole year, there was only so much one young girl could take. “Isn’t Grandpa Shermie kinda _young_ to you?”

There. She’d done it at last. Dipper was smart, he’d make the connection. She heard a slight shuffle as Dipper presumably put the book on the table.

“Um, I don’t know, we haven’t seen the guy in years,” he shrugged. “He lives way out on the east coast. I don’t even remember what he looks like, to be honest.”

Mabel felt her eyes start to water up again as she fisted her pillow, still refusing to face her brother. Apparently she needed to feed him some more. “Remember that night back home a while ago? We saw Dad in his study … crying … and Mom said he was on the phone and to leave him alone?”

“Wha - you think something happened to Grandpa Shermie?”

“No, it’s got nothing to do with--”

“Mabel, you’re making zero sense right now, where is all this coming from?” Dipper had swung his legs over the bed now to sit on his mattress, as if prepared to leap across the room to interrogate his sister.

Mabel finally rolled over to face him in a state of defeat. Reaching over the side of her bed to where her suitcase lay, she fished around until she found what she was looking for: An old magazine with a rip-out Sev’ral Timez poster. Flipping it open to the center, she revealed her secret hidden in this one place she knew her brother would never look.

“Here. Look at this.”

She held out the old photograph Stan had given her the previous summer, and Dipper slid partway off the bed to reach across the room and take it from her. The picture from Stan and Ford’s high school graduation. With their parents. And…

“Okay, so it’s our uncles and - wait.” At first there was nothing strange about the girl Stan had his arm curled around in the picture. Until Dipper looked directly up at his sister afterwards. His eyes went back down to the girl. Then back up to Mabel. He did this a few more times before his dry mouth was able to form words. “Why - who - why does that girl look like--?”

“Me?” Mabel finished timidly, finally sitting up in bed as well. “Guess I - I took a lot after our Grandma Carla.”

“Whoa, hold it, _that’s_ Carla?”

“You knew about her?” Mabel asked quizzically.

“Yeah, Stan told me about her once!” Dipper cried out.

“And he didn’t tell you who she was?!” Mabel felt a hot bubble of anger rise up in her throat, nearly impossible to swallow down.

“Just that she was a girl he used to date. He was helping me go after Wendy when Robbie was hypnotizing her--”

“She was _way_ more than that!” Mabel couldn’t believe how close Stan had come to telling Dipper after all. “Stan loved her. Like _really_ loved her a lot.”

“So … if Carla’s our grandma,” Dipper checked the resemblance once more, but there was no denying it. “Then…” He smiled, shaking his head. “No. No, there’s no way that’s true.”

“Dipper,” Mabel breathed, at a complete loss for words as she watched him struggle to grasp the inevitable.

“He would’ve told us. That’s … that’s something he would’ve told us right off the bat.”

“Dipper, I’m so sorry,” Mabel covered her mouth with her hands. “I should’ve said something about it even if Stan _did_ make me promise not to.”

“He _what?_!” Dipper was on his feet in an instant. “You knew about all of this?!”

“I’m _sorry_!” Mabel cried out, her voice breaking. “I thought he would’ve told you sometime during the past year--!”

“You - you kept this from me?” He wasn’t shouting anymore, but they were by far the words that cut her the deepest. “After everything we’ve been through together?”

“This isn’t about us, Dipper, you need to talk to Stan,” Mabel pleaded, her eyes large and swimming with tears. “Please, I can’t take this anymore! I can’t _stand_ you not--!”

“What’s going on up here?” The door opened swiftly and Ford entered, looking stern. “It’s one o'clock in the morning and you two are yelling loud enough to wake the dead. And the last thing this shack needs is another zombie convergence.”

Dipper turned to face him, gripping the photo so tightly in his hands he could have torn it in two. “Great Uncle Ford, is it true? Is this girl our grandmother?” Ford gently pried Dipper’s fingers off the picture to get a better look, holding it up to his eye level. His entire face softened as a wave of nostalgia passed over him, as if transported back in time via memories rather than tape measure.

“I … yes, Dipper,” the older man said quietly.

“And … she was in love with Grunkle Stan?”

“And Stanley was … very much in love with her in turn.”

“No…” Dipper backed away from both of them, his hands gripping at his hair.

“I had my suspicions almost immediately after meeting you two.” Ford looked between him and Mabel looking utterly anguished on her bed. “And I figured it out shortly thereafter and confronted Stanley. Naturally, he made me promise not to tell either of you.” He focused solely on Dipper now, having never pitied the boy as much as he did at this moment. “Now you have to talk to him yourself. It’s the only way to get through to Stan that keeping you ignorant of this was wrong.”

“I’m sorry, Dipper…” Mabel kept repeating, tears leaking out the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry, bro-bro…”

Dipper simply narrowed his eyes into the filthiest glare he could throw at her before spinning on his heel to exit the room. The door’s slam, the pounding of his feet down the stairs fading away, and Ford’s deep audible sigh were the only sounds in the room for several moments afterward.

To say that this night had taken an interesting turn was an understatement.


	3. iii. little talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> reagan's cause of death: having to update this on mobile  
> and the fact i'm hacking up a lung
> 
> FML
> 
> enjoy the story, lovelies <3

_ Remember that thing your parents told you? _

_ The thing they said was really important, and would make you feel safe and secure and help you sleep at night? _

_ They were lying. _

 

~~~~~~

 

“Grunkle Stan!” Dipper flung open the door to the old man’s bedroom, sure that he would find him there at this late hour. And certainly without caring if he jolted him out of a dead sleep or gave him a heart attack. Dipper felt like he was having one himself. But to his surprise, the decades-worn mattress was vacant.

“Stan, where are you?!” he yelled at full voice, tripping over frantic awakened kidlets squealing and braying around his ankles. He skillfully avoided squashing any of them in the semi-darkness as his bare feet padded across the chilly wooden floor. It had been five whole minutes and Mabel hadn’t attempted to follow him downstairs after his admittedly dramatic exit.

_ Good _ , he thought bitterly. Dipper honestly didn’t know who he was more angry at: Stan for going all of last summer without revealing his true relation to them, or Mabel for knowing and not telling her own twin brother. It brought back on the anger he’d felt the night Mabel had put her trust in Stan over him and not shut down the portal, the night Ford returned to this dimension. He thought he’d quelled that resentment when he learned Stan’s intentions of getting his brother back, but it only seemed to have come back stronger than ever. Because it was the only other time Dipper had ever felt this particular anger that seared through him right to the core.

Betrayal. And not just from anyone. From  _ family. _

 

~~~~~

 

Ford sighed, running a hand across his face while firmly clutching the photo. He stood there for a moment, frozen in shock, but was snapped out of his temporary trance by the muffled sound of his great-niece whining. His gaze darted forward, and another crack formed on his already beaten heart. A moment passed before he hesitantly stepped forward to sit down next to her on the bed.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he said, the term of affection feeling fizzy; strange and wonderful on his tongue. “You can’t stay in Sweater Town forever. I never did.”

Mabel squeaked out a sneeze and mumbled against him; “You used Sweater Town as a coping mechanism too?”

“Yup,” Ford declared. “I learned people are better than dustballs.”

A soft incoherent mumble escaped Mabel, and she relaxed, sliding out of her sweater ever-so-slightly. “So,” she mumbled. “You knew that Shermie isn’t my real grandpa?” She gave a rueful laugh at Ford’s nod. “Oh, geez. So everyone in our family knew except me and Dipper?”

Ford’s second nod was much slower. “More or less; I never met your father, but I do know he’s my nephew,” he said.

 

~~~~~

 

Panting harder now, he approached the always closed, always locked office door. Only this time it wasn’t locked. The handle clicked as Dipper turned it forcefully and shoved the door open so hard it banged against the opposite wall. There was no light except for the lamp on the desk, illuminating the face of the man who didn’t even wince when the door blew open. His expression was completely unreadable, half in shadow as he gripped a picture frame almost as fiercely as Dipper had gripped that photo only moments earlier. He looked almost as if he had been expecting this. It was the face of a man who was tired of fighting and tired of holding back. In that moment, Dipper had never seen Stan look so  _ old _ .

But it did not invoke one single ounce of sympathy from the teenage boy, who remained standing in the doorway with his fists balled at his sides, trying to steady his hard irregular breathing. He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to spit out everything he knew, but his brain was spinning so fast he could barely form a coherent thought, let alone words. As Stan’s brown eyes bore into Dipper’s identical ones, waiting for him to strike, something finally broke the steely silence. A name that fell icily from Dipper’s lips.

“Carla.”

Stan closed his eyes, setting the picture Dipper could not see back down on the table. That one word, the name of the only woman he’d ever loved, the reason the boy glaring at him with such passionate ire even existed, was all the confirmation Stan needed.

“Who told you?” he rasped out. “Ford or Mabel?”

“ _ You _ did.” Dipper took one step further into the office. “Carla ‘Hotpants’ McCorkle from the 50’s-themed 1970’s diner who ran off with a hippie. Who you conveniently neglected to mention gave birth to my father.” His eyes narrowed, “And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t with the hippie.”

 

~~~~

 

Mabel fell silent, eyes darting up to look at her great uncle. “You don’t have any mystery kids we should know about, do you?” she asked. “You didn’t go have kids with weird interdimensional ladies, did you?”

“Uh, no,” Ford declared. “No. Definitely not. I was too busy trying to stay alive.”

“Okay,” Mabel said, with a ghost of a smile. “Just making sure.”

Then - of all the things Stanford Pines could prepare himself for, he didn’t expect to see his niece suddenly burst into tears, burying her face in her hands and shaking from head to toe. Awkwardly, Ford reached out, gently lifting Mabel up as he pulled her close into an embrace. He tried to comfort her, but she was such a mess, and dammit, he didn’t know what to do when people, especially girls, cried.

 

~~~~

 

“I admit it, I uh…” Stan seemed to be searching for the right terminology, “ _ withheld _ some information--”

“Which is  _ lying _ !” Dipper cut him off abruptly, making damn sure he understood who had the upper hand right now. Stan seemed to get it, holding his palms out in surrender as if the kid was pointing a gun at him.

“Dipper … I swear, I was gonna tell ya first thing in the morning.”

“Oh really? How long have you been telling yourself that?” Now the words were spilling out without a filter between the brain and mouth. “A year? Almost  _ fourteen _ years?”

“Listen, you need to hear the whole th--”

“You’re a liar,” Dipper’s voice came out in a quivering whisper. “That’s all you’ve ever been, and that’s all you ever will be.”

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know,” Stan remarked simply.

 

~~~~~

 

Ford wiped a few of her tears away, and shushed her. “Now, now, Mabel,” he muttered. “Calm down, I - I’m here,” He trailed off for a moment, brushing away another tear. “What’s got you so upset anyway?”

“I’m a liar, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel whined. “I lied to my brother for almost a year. Does that make me a bad person?”

“No,” Ford assured, shaking his head. “No, no, Mabel, you’re a _ fantastic _ person. Lying is never a good thing, but you had to do it. You promised Stan you wouldn’t tell Dipper. I’m not justifying what you did, but -” He stopped for a second, then sighed deeply. “Alright, perhaps I am. Still … ” He brushed her hair out of her face. “One lie doesn’t make you a terrible person.”

“But what if it’s a really big lie that could make someone hate you forever?” Mabel muttered.

 

~~~~~

 

Stan stood slowly from the rolling chair and came around the desk, his eyes never leaving Dipper. The burning brown eyes were surely a Pines trait, but the way his mouth and chin curled into a deep grimace … only Stan recognized that. From his son’s face. Who had inherited it from Carla.

He spoke without thinking, “Ya really are my grandson.”

“ _ Don’t call me that! _ ”

“Now you listen to me, kid!” Stan finally roared, slamming his hands on the table behind him. “You’re gonna face the truth one way or another.” He pointed a finger at him for emphasis, though Dipper noticed it was shaking. “Either you shut that door behind ya, pull up a chair and hear the whole story - every last bit of it -  or we go down to the basement and get Ford to run a DNA test. No mushy stuff, no personal touches or details, just cold hard scientific  _ fact _ .” Pacing the length of the room in two strides, he stopped as close to Dipper as he dared.

“So what’s it gonna be?”

Dipper held his gaze for what felt like ages, uncurling his fists to find that his own hands were shaking. Reaching behind him, he grabbed onto the door and swung it shut. Stan kept his stance firm, yet relaxed a bit at this definitive action. He watched Dipper’s hunched shoulders drop as he held his head up higher, folding his arms across his chest challengingly.

“Okay. Go.”

 

**_~~~~~~_ **

 

“Dipper won’t hate you forever,” Ford said. “He might be a bit resentful at first, but he’ll come around.”

Mabel sniffled, smearing the snot and tears on the sleeve of her nightgown. “You think so?” she spoke up, her voice shaking with each word. The tiniest smile appeared as her great-uncle nodded in reassurance.

Ford held her close, and kept comforting her until she managed to hiccup out some coherent words.

“Grunkle Ford?” she mumbled, wrapping her tiny arms around him. “What do _ you  _ think of me? I - I mean, you haven’t been around that long, but -”

“I think you’re an amazing young woman, Mabel,” Ford declared. “You’re creative, and imaginative. Adventurous, curious, I can’t count all of your good qualities, not even with all of the fingers I have.”

That got a laugh out of her. It was a start.

“When I first looked at you,” Ford chuckled, gently cupping her face in his hands and looking at her sincerely. “That was a funny story. I saw so  _ much _ . There was light, of course. You were so sweet, so inviting and silly. Then, I remembered,” He bit back a frown, but the way Mabel hugged harder seemed to have squeezed it out of him. “You reminded me of my mother, and Carla, and … oh my God. You were your own person and so much more than that. You were a walking memory and a new friend to me, Mabel.”

Ford hesitated, and looked at the picture in his hand. He hadn’t seen this photograph in so long. He had thought someone had lost it.

Him and his brother, on graduation day of high school.

He was in the middle of a little victory dance, Carla and Stanley were embraced like the lovesick kids they were, Filbrick and Ginny were in the background with a baby Shermie … his mother’s smile was feigned. Ford knew that not only from memory, but just at a glance in a photograph, someone could see the weariness and pain in her eyes. Things had changed. Places did, too. Most importantly, so did people.

That day was the last good day. The evening of it was when everything went to Hell and it had been brother versus brother. Quite literally.

 

**_~~~~~_ **

 

“I was completely on my own. No money, no friends, no family.” Stan was sitting back in his chair again looking world-worn. Curiosity had eventually taken over Dipper’s anger and he sat down in the ancient cushioned chair with balls of stuffing falling out. He still kept his arms crossed stubbornly and his frown never faltered. Yet Stan pressed on: “Carla and I tried to make it work, we made plans to meet up once she could get away, but--”

“But she was pregnant,” Dipper pointed out sullenly.

“She needed support that I just couldn’t give her.” Stan clenched his fist as he ran his other hand through his hair. “I was runnin’ around the country with a different identity in each state, barely scrapin’ together enough money to feed myself. ” He managed to crack a smile: “Thank God for your great-grandma. She and my Pop were always at odds, and he wrote me off without so much as a ‘ _ serves ‘im right _ .’ But she took Carla in when she showed up with a baby in her arms … and told her he was mine.”

He paused, glancing at Dipper’s face appealingly. “Don’t you get it, kid? Could you imagine your dad - the baby of two kids - makin’ it out in one piece if his real dad raised him?” Dipper just shrugged, staring at the floor. It reminded Stan of the time he caught Wendy stealing from the register, and she had reacted the same way when he confronted her: No eye contact, no verbal response. He was a real teenager alright.

Pulling open a drawer beside him, Stan retrieved something he hadn’t looked at in years: The map of states he had been banned from. Unfolding the wrinkled yellowed paper, he spread the map out on the desk. Dipper’s eyes darted up in mild interest, watching Stan point to the small bit of land between New York and Pennsylvania.

He raised his eyebrows. “It’s not crossed out. You weren’t banned from New Jersey.”

“I went back to meet your dad,” Stan nodded. “Carla was outta the picture by then, but … I got to hold my son. Just for a little while before I had to take off again - cops were on my tail and all that.” He inhaled deeply, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he brought a fist to his mouth, stifling a torrent of emotions. “Dipper, I - I woulda given  _ anything _ if I coulda taken him with me. But I’m glad I didn’t, in the end.” Clearing his throat loudly, he sat up straighter and rolled the map back up. “He wouldn’t have gone to West Coast Tech. Or met your mom.” He smiled sadly, “You and your sister wouldn’t exist.”

 

~~~~

 

He didn’t even realize it but Ford noticed there were tears in his eyes. Mabel had reached up, brushing them away.

“It’s okay,” she said softly. “I bet it hurts you more, y’know? That’s your family and junk right there.”

“Ah, sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t be,” Mabel assured. “Stan told me it’s natural to cry. He said the only place to not do it is in public. So I don’t. And I think the same thing applies to you. You can be upset, you don’t always have to be the hero or the stone-faced guy. ‘cause, y’know,” She fiddled with a loose string on his sweater. “Sometimes, it feels that way.”

Ford paused, taking in the sentiment and slowly reacting. “Right. Of course.”

Mabel managed a tiny grin, looking up at him earnestly and lovingly. “You’re a really great addition to this family, Grunkle Ford,” she assured.

“Family,” Ford said, with a wistful tone of voice.

He softly laughed to himself, avoiding Mabel’s gaze - and his chuckle dwindled into a groan. He stayed this way for a while, coughing out sobs and slightly shaking against his great-niece who kept her arms around him in a hug. It was a little silly, her comforting him - the tables had turned. But Mabel was Mabel and she wouldn’t leave his side.

That is, until her great-uncle seemed coherent again.

“Everything about this family is a bit of a mystery, Mabel,” Ford said, releasing a heavy sigh. “How Carla died, the reasons my father left, why Stanley and I couldn’t have repaired things sooner-” He frowned, holding her closer and relieved to see that neither of them were crying anymore. “There are plenty of things in the past, everyone was at fault … more or less. And I don’t know about you, but right now, I’d like to focus on the present. Getting to know you and your brother is the greatest adventure I’ve ever had.”

 

~~~~

 

“Dad still deserved to know the truth,” Dipper finally said, his volume finally breaking out of a sarcastic hush. “And so did Mabel and I.”

“Your dad was around your age - maybe a little younger - when he figured it all out,” Stan went on, his hand fishing around in the drawer again. “Carla had … had just died.”

At that, Dipper’s expression softened for the first time. “How--?”

“The details aren’t important,” Stan held up a hand, waving his inquiry away. Dipper could tell this wasn’t something he wanted to delve into, and let it drop. “Point is my Ma, who wasn’t doin’ so great herself, sent your dad his records after his birth mother’s death.” He smiled almost proudly, “Shermie tried to hide ‘em when they came in the mail, but your dad wasn’t just smart - he had quick fingers. It was all there, signed and sealed by the State of New Jersey: Carla McCorkle was his mother and Stanley Pines, his father.”

“But by then, you were posing as  _ Stanford _ ,” Dipper realized.

“And Stanley was dead in a car crash.” He set a handful of photos on the table, some he had shown to Mabel, some were newly rediscovered. “Pretty convenient for me. Spent thirty years tryin’ to get that portal back up and runnin’, each day bringin’ me closer to gettin’ Ford back. But on the flipside, every day was also one day closer to droppin’ the act as your dad’s Uncle Stan.”

He stopped on a photo of himself, Ford and Carla as sun-bleached children on the Jersey shore. “I told Ford bits and pieces when I got ‘im back. He and Carla were pretty close and all, plus he deserved to know all about his nephew. Told - told him  _ everything _ while we were out on the water. Felt like the right time to spill it all then, ya know? Just the two of us there.” He left out the part where he’d sat on the deck of the  _ Stan O’War II _ bawling like a baby as he relived losing his love and giving up his son, while Ford held him like they were kids again. But no one needed to know about that.

 

~~~~

 

Adventures. Ford hadn’t felt genuine ones in so long. The past three decades, hopping from dimension to dimension - that wasn’t fun. That was nerve-wracking. Now … now Ford could say he finally felt like himself again. He had remembered when Stanley had confessed to him all that had occurred in the past thirty years. It had felt like the right time, just the two of them and the high seas.

One calm night, they sat down and had a long overdue talk…

_ “Where do I start, Ford?” _

_ “At the beginning, of course.” _

And so the dam broke. Tales of heartbreak, life and death, beginnings and endings; Ford had never seen his brother so broken. Stanley jumped from detail to detail, but certain ones definitely struck a chord in their heartstrings.

_ “The cocktail they found in Carla’s system was _ **_ridiculous_ ** _. They were surprised she hadn’t kicked the bucket sooner.”   _ That detail was too grim for a thirteen year old to know, especially piled on with everything else. Sooner or later, Mabel would be told that. When she was over all this.

_ “Shermie got hitched, and him and that big-nosed wife of his renamed Link. Do you believe that, Ford? He’s  _ **_my son_ ** _. I shoulda had a say in that.”  _ Lincoln had been young then. So he was lied to. Alex (“Lex” being a nickname) had been changed to his first name, Lincoln his middle. Lincoln Carlton was gone, and that was the only piece of Carla that Stanley had.

Of course, Lex had found out the truth. Everyone does, eventually.

_ “So, uh, ‘Lex’ met some girl right outta college. They did good on the Pines family tradition with the twins, and gee, lemme tell you, Ford, I thought I went back in time when I saw Dipper and he was real little. He looked so much like _ **_you_ ** _.”  _ Ford had hugged his brother for the first time since the kids had left.

Those nights, so many late night conversations just between two old men with worn-out hearts. Those details just scratched the surface.

As did these ones Ford was telling Mabel.

“Look,” he breathed out. “The past was the past. We can’t go back and change it-” He raised a finger to keep her from talking. “-and we aren’t going to go steal a tape measure to do so. I still have things to catch up on right now.”

Mabel nodded, suddenly seeming so much younger in tone of voice. “Okay,” she murmured.

 

~~~

 

“But you’re Stanley again,” Dipper stated flatly. “Now Dad knows. Great Uncle Ford knows. Mabel knows.  _ Everyone _ knew except me.” His jaw set tightly, “Why?”

Stan had extracted two photos from the pile and slid them across the table. Dipper stood from his seat and moved closer to look at them. One was a sepia-toned photo of a sunburned kid Stanley on the beach, the other a washed-out color photo of a boy around Dipper’s age with glasses and curly dark brown hair - like Carla’s curls in the sepia pictures with teenaged Stan. “Ya don’t just  _ look _ like me and your dad,” he sighed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dipper took on that challenging tone again. “Look, I get why you couldn’t raise my dad, I get it was tough for you having a kid without being married. And I even get you hiding it all when you assumed Great Uncle Ford’s identity. I understand all of that - but you  _ still _ haven’t told me why I was kept in the dark! Why did  _ Mabel  _ know and not me?!”

“She happened to be awake at the time, so--”

“And you couldn’t wake  _ me  _ up to tell me this little tidbit about my family?!” He bit down hard on his quivering lip. “Is it … is it ‘cause it looked like I cared more about the mysteries of the town, and who the Author was … than I did about our family?”

“That’s not even close--”

“But Mabel does. Mabel’s always cared about the people she loves more than anything.” It was so childish, but he couldn’t stop the next words that came tumbling out. “You love her more than me.”

“ _ No _ , Dipper!” Now Stan was angry, possibly angrier than Dipper had ever seen before. He leapt up from the chair, suddenly seeming ten years younger as he strode back around the desk. “You’re a pain in my rear, kid. You got a big mouth and you can’t stop stickin’ your nose where it doesn’t belong. You’re stubborn! You always gotta be right! You’re constantly gettin’ on my last nerve, Dipper! But dammit if I don’t love you to  _ death _ !” His voice broke on the final word as he stood toe-to-toe with Dipper, who had no trouble holding his own despite his shorter stature.

“But you didn’t tell me--!”

“Because you’re just like me!” Stan yelled, his eyes beginning to glimmer with tears in the dim light. “I was  _ ashamed _ ! There, that’s why! Ya happy?! I was ashamed of how much I had to lie! That I couldn’t raise your dad! I wasn’t just takin’ Ford’s place ‘cause he was gone - I took it ‘cause I  _ hated  _ the guy I was! The guy who had to keep runnin’ and hidin’ from the truth. And if I found out my great-uncle had been keepin’ it secret that he was my real grandpa my entire life, I’d never  _ ever _ forgive him!” His shoulders slumped. “I knew your sister would. I knew Ford would - after a twenty-minute lecture, though,” His face began to crumble, “I took a huge gamble callin’ Lex up when we got back from the trip … but sweet Moses, he finally forgave me too. So when the day I had to tell you got closer, I - I didn’t think lightnin’ would strike twice. How could you forgive me if  _ I  _ can’t even forgive me?”

Dipper felt as though he’d been hit by a truck, staring dumbfounded as Stan covered his eyes with his hand, leaning against the desk behind him exhaustedly. He hadn’t considered it, it had never crossed his mind, but Stan was completely right. Dipper’s vast knowledge and book smarts he got from his father. His interest in all things weird and paranormal, that was all Ford. But his passion, his bullheadedness, his willingness to do anything for his family - and worst of all, the way he held onto grudges and had trouble forgiving -  _ Stan _ . When he listened to Mabel and followed his heart and gut instincts, he took after the man who conned the world all out of the infinite unconditional love for his brother, his son and … his grandchildren. The man who was trying desperately not to break down in front of him as Dipper’s own vision began to blur.

He swallowed with difficulty. “S-sometimes … people can surprise you.” Stan slowly removed his hand from his face, but Dipper shook his head. “Oh, I’m mad at you all right. I’m gonna be pissed for a pretty long time about this - especially when you had  _ plenty  _ of chances to tell the truth sooner. I’ll  _ always _ hate the Stan that lies.”

“Your sister said the same thing... “ Stan opened his arms. “C’mere.”

Dipper snorted in spite of himself. “You want a  _ hug?  _ After I just said all that?”

“I want you to hit me.”

Dipper blinked. “Wha - no.”

The old man stuck out his chest. “C’mon, you know you want to. You want nothin’ more than to really lay one on me, and this is the only time I’m ever givin’ you permission. ‘Cause you and I both know I deserve it.” He took a step closer. “C’mon Dipper …  gimme your best shot.”

Stan closed his eyes, waiting for the blows to start coming. Sure enough, Dipper let out a strangled yell a moment later and flung his entire lanky body against the broad-shouldered man, his fists attached to noodle arms colliding hard with Stan’s rock-solid chest.

Just once. Stan opened his eyes and looked down to see him frozen with his fists still up, his head bowed against his chest, and his whole body shaking against Stan’s. He bent down to Dipper’s level, holding him by the wrists.

“My Pop always told me not to cry,” he rumbled gently, trying to get Dipper to look at him, but he kept his screwed-up face hidden. “He’d smack the tears right off’a my face and tell me to ‘man up’.” He shook his head, “I never told your dad that … and I’m not gonna tell  _ you  _ that either.”

 

~~~~

 

There was a moment of serene silence between them both, sharing a halfway hug and bittersweet smiles.

“Grunkle Ford?”

“Yes?”

Another pause, a much shorter one, and Mabel was grinning as she asked; “Were you and Grandma Carla friends?”

Ford chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, that’s a story,” he said. “The Mystery Trio of Glass Shard Beach, the three of us. Stanley, Carla and I. We met as children on the shore. God, what year was it? I believe my brother and I were about nine or ten and Carla had just turned eight,” His smile could only be described as bittersweet. “We found her standing in the tide wearing a black dress, crying her eyes out. Of course, Stanley could never keep to himself, even at that age, and asked what was wrong. Turns out she had run out on her mother’s funeral. So we took Carla to our house and ever since then, the three of us were inseparable.”

Mabel had wonder in her eyes, and was much more loosened up at this point. “Did she like doing all of that mystery junk with you guys?” she asked.

“She was always the skeptic and worrywart,” Ford said, with a shrug. He cleared his throat, and adapted a rough falsetto to his voice, with his Jersey accent daring to creep back. “ _ ‘Get down from there! You loons are gonna get yourselves killed and I’mma have to tell your ma and daddy that their boys died doin’ somethin’ stupid!’ _ ”

“Kind of like Dipper?” Mabel asked, suppressing another laugh.

 

~~~

 

The dam broke in a single explosive sob, and Dipper collapsed against him as Stan dropped to his knees to cradle his convulsing form in his arms. The anger and resentment Dipper still had for him was there in every whimpering breath, in all the countless bitter tears that soaked through Stan’s sweater. But the one and only thing that mattered to Stan now was that, as a grandfather, his grandson needed him to hold him.

“You can hate me, kid, hate me all you want. Disown me.” Although the boy had every right to do so, the very thought of that happening tore through whatever flimsy bonds were holding Stan’s heart together. He buried his nose in Dipper’s hair, choking out dry racking sobs. “But don’t take this out on Mabel. She never wanted to keep this secret, she - she was only doin’ what I told her to.”

After what felt like ages, Dipper’s breathing finally evened out as he slowly pulled away from where he’d burrowed himself in Stan’s chest. Swiping off the tears and mucus tiredly, he glanced up at Stan’s equally wet eyes.

“I don’t hate you,” he hiccuped. “I wish I could, I wish it was that easy for me to just write off family, but I  _ can’t _ .” He wrung his hands anxiously in front of him, seemingly at a loss for what to say next. “Can … can I still call you ‘Grunkle’? At least for a little while?” He shrugged, impatiently wiping a few more stray tears on the back of his wrist. “Sorry, just - the Grandpa title’s gonna take some getting used to.”

“Kid, if you can ever find it in your heart to forgive me,” Stan smirked, “you can call me whatever the hell you want.”

 

**_~~~~~_ **

 

Ford shook his head, reverting his voice back to normal. “Oh - no, she wasn’t afraid to fly her own little flag of rebellion,” he said, with a soft laugh. “Being raised by a conservative Catholic single father did cause her to act out. It was her idea to graffiti an abandoned lighthouse, sneak into a casino right after we all become official teenagers, skip school to go on a road trip to Coney Island.” A sigh escaped him. “Carla was a bundle of fun.”

“So,” Mabel murmured. “When did her and Stan start falling in love?”

Of course. Typical Mabel, always one for a love story. With a halfhearted laugh, Ford thought to himself for a few moments. When was it? Far as he knew, Stanley and Carla were like magic. Magnets. The few similarities they had made their opposite qualities stand out even more so.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” Ford admitted. “They always seemed to like each other, in that manner. It got really bad when we became teenagers, though,” He laughed along with Mabel. “I would be telling the tale of the Jersey Devil, then I turn around for a second and they’re making goo-goo eyes at each other.” He rolled his eyes playfully as Mabel burst into giggles. “But yes, Carla and I were very close as well, she thought of me as the brother she never got to have.” He paused again, swallowing hard. “She had called me the day before your father was born, in fact. She needed my support, because she had no means of contacting Stanley. A-and that was the last time I spoke to her.”

She came back to haunt him in his memory; her sobs on the other end of the call, her statement with its’ thick East Coast accent shaking him to the core:  _ “Ya gotta quit worryin’ about me, Fordsie. Take care of yourself, and I’ll take care o’ my baby.”  _ He had promised to see her again someday, just to catch up. _ “And if youse ever see Stanley again, tell him I’m sorry.” _

Then she had hung up. He didn’t bother calling back. He was too grief-stricken. To think he never knew that would be the last time he’d talk to her. And now, Ford found himself all out of tears.

“Oh,” Mabel mused. “That must have sucked for her.”

“I’m sure she took good care of Lincoln until … whatever it was that happened,” Ford assured.

“Lex,” Mabel spoke up, her brow furrowing. “My dad’s name is Alex.”

Ford paused, and ran a hand across the stubble on his chin. His eyes fell downcast; “Mabel, Shermie changed your father’s name. He was young enough, and your ‘grandfather’ got it in his head that your father was his own son. Stanley was out of the picture at the time, but I’m sure he wouldn’t have settled with that.”

 

~~~~

 

“There ya go.” Stan sat back down on the office floor with Dipper after several long minutes of rummaging through drawers looking for that piece of paper. That is, until he finally remembered where he put it. The safe beside the desk where he’d kept his cash profits from the Mystery Shack, the safe Soos had kept right where it always had been. Just like the rest of Stan’s office. The safe that read  _ Miser & Son  _ on the front. “Your dad’s birth certificate.”

“This is unreal,” Dipper sighed as he took the worn wrinkled paper from Stan, his eyes scanning over the printed words stamped with a raised seal. He couldn’t deny Stan’s revelation anymore, that was for sure. It was all there in black and white. He stared at the name _Lincoln Carlton_ _Pines_ \- “So that’s dad’s birth name.”

“Yep,” Stan groaned, his joints cracking while shifting beside him - sitting on the floor wasn’t as easy as it used to be for him. “Good ol’ Sherm changed it up. Lex probably wouldn’t have believed it was him if my Ma hadn’t been the one who sent it to ‘im. But yeah, ‘Carlton’ came from ‘Carla’.” He stopped, his gaze wandering off into space. “I miss her … I think about her every day.”

“She was your first love,” Dipper nodded in understanding. “I get it. Trust me, I - I know how hard it is to let her go.” He wasn’t going to admit it out loud, but there were definitely butterflies in his stomach when he heard Wendy’s voice over the phone last night.

“I  _ never _ loved another woman like I loved her, kid. Tried to, at least twice. And I hate to say it, but as much as I love your sister, it--” He sniffled, wiping his wrist roughly under his nose. “It hurts to look at her sometimes. ‘Cause I’ll see that girl on the beach yellin’ ‘ _ Get down Stanley, ya gonna break your neck and your Ma’s gonna kill me! _ ’, and almost lose it.” He looked back around at Dipper quickly, “Don’t tell her I said that, it’d break her heart.”

“I won’t,” Dipper said, folding the birth certificate back up gently and handing it back to Stan as if it were made of glass. He knew Stan was showing him all of these photos and old documents to comfort him, to lessen the shock of this huge bombshell that had been dropped on him only a couple hours earlier. And to be honest … it was working. Stan was his grandpa, but the world didn’t come to an end or anything. Stan wasn’t going to suddenly start acting more responsible, oh no - he was still the same crusty old codger and a worse influence than ever. It didn’t seem to take anything away from the image of him Dipper had developed over the last year, it only added to it. He smirked a little, wondering what other secrets in his checkered past he’d be able to get Stan to divulge. But those were mysteries for another time, and he wasn’t about to press his luck tonight.

But …  _ It’s still Stan, and he loves us. _ Dipper nearly gasped out loud as Mabel’s words from ages ago echoed through his thoughts. A single sentence that suddenly made the muddled mess of new knowledge dumped into his brain perfectly clear. It didn’t matter  _ how _ Stan was related to them. Nothing was going to change how much he cared about him and Mabel - as his niece and nephew, as his grandkids, whatever.

_ And we love him … right? _ Now he got it. She hadn’t been asking if he loved Stan, because of course he did. She had been wondering aloud if they’d both still love him even after learning everything he’d told them was a lie. And just how many secrets he’d kept, and was still keeping …

“Not showin’ you this one to sway ya or anythin’, but - “ Stan had reached up to his desk to grab the framed picture - the one he’d been looking at pensively when Dipper barged into the office - and placed it in his hands. It was taken from a strange perspective, as if the photographer had snuck up on him, but it was Stan pushing around fifty years old looking over his shoulder at the camera, surprised yet content. And in his arms were two very small newborn babies. “I risked completely blowin’ my cover … just to see you knuckleheads come into the world.”

Dipper felt his eyes start to burn with impending tears again, his nose starting to itch, and he fought down the lump forming in his throat. “Stan …” was all he was able to get out before Stan cupped the back of his head, ruffling his hair.

“Our family means everythin’ to me, Dipper, whether ya believe it or not. Even if I wasn’t honest, I always tried to be a part of it. I was there for Lex when he needed me, even if it was as his uncle. And I’m always gonna be there for you and Mabel, too. No matter …  _ who  _ I am.”

“I believe it,” Dipper said quietly, afraid if he spoke any louder he’d start to cry again. “I don’t think I’ll ever wonder if you love me again. And I think that’s why …” He glanced up at Stan, sliding closer to him so he was nestled in the crook of his arm. “I can forgive you.”

He had no words. Stan’s face only crumbled, rivulets running down his wrinkled cheeks as he pulled Dipper close to him once more. He’d done nothing to deserve this. And yet somehow, all that dumb luck he thought he ran out of long ago seemed to be catching up with him.

 

~~~~

 

Mabel released another soft _ “oh”  _ and her gaze became downcast. She almost teared up again, at the realization of more lies, but instead, she just dove in for another hug. She shared a good, long embrace with her great-uncle - a satisfyingly silent one. No more crying, regret or bittersweet tales.

Just the two of them.

Eventually, Ford was the one to break down the thick wall of quiet.

He eyed his niece and his gaze travelled up to the shelf over her bed. “You keep record of your own adventures,” he noticed, pointing to all of the scrapbooks.

Mabel’s eyes lit up as she nodded. “Yeah,” she piped up. “I scrapbook everything. I have ones back in Piedmont that go back all the way to when me and Dipper were, like, five! They weren’t as fabulous as these ones, though.” She fetched her current one, doused in sparkles and glitter - her name, the year and other little notes written in glitter glue.

“Maybe I should start decking out my new journals like that,” Ford chuckled.

Mabel paused, pursing her lips. “I brought the one from last year with me,” she said softly. “Would you like to see it? Like, actually read it this time?”

Ford could barely finish his nod before his niece shot to her feet, jumping up on her bed to reach the top shelf. He walked over once she pried open the book, smiling a sweet little grin.

“So,” she said, swallowing hard. “That was the day me and Dipper first came to Gravity Falls.”

And so, on this night that was slowly dwindling into morning, Stanford Pines found himself hearing the most remarkable story ever told. Living through it was one thing, but hearing it  _ yet again _ was another. He felt proud, elated, his heart might have wrenched once or twice … but by the end of it, Mabel and he were hugging it out, smiling and laughing and crying all at once.

“Now  _ that  _ was a fantastic bedtime story,” Ford declared, ruffling his great-niece’s hair. “But it’s far too late to read the rest of the series.” He smiled when Mabel giggled at his little metaphor-joke.

For a moment, he hesitated, but of course she would pounce - standing up, hugging him and placing a kiss on his cheek.

“G’night, Grunkle Ford,” she mumbled against him, inhaling the smell of smoke and cologne on his sweater. “Thanks for just … being there, I guess.”

Ford bestowed a smile she couldn’t see. He patted her on the back right before easily pulling away from the embrace. As he got up, Mabel laid down, clutching her scrapbook close as she snuggled under her comforter, falling asleep almost instantly.

“Sweet dreams, Mabel,” he sighed, before seeing his way out, taking soft steps and letting the door click behind him.

 

~~~~

 

“Think you’ll sleep alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll manage. G’night, Grunkle Stan.”

“Night, Dipper.”

Ford heard this rather stiff, tired exchange as he descended the stairs, seeing Dipper and Stan’s shadows in the light from the office reflected on the wall. He moved aside once he reached the bottom to let his nephew pass him. The poor boy was visibly drained, his eyes red and swollen as if he’d been crying extensively. Ford reached out to clap a hand on his shoulder, holding it firmly for a minute while Dipper gave him a slight unreadable nod in acknowledgment. He watched his retreating form sympathetically before turning to his brother, who possibly looked even more exhausted.

“So… how did it go?”

“Better than I thought it would,” Stan muttered as he shuffled into the front room, barely stifling a yawn. “And by that, I mean I thought he was gonna kill me.”

“He didn’t seem angry,” Ford pointed out.

“I think he’s too tired to be angry right now.” Stan snorted, “He gave me an earful earlier, I’ll tell ya that. Can’t say I didn’t have it comin’.”

“Neither can I,” Ford agreed flatly. Stan looked up at him with narrowed irritated eyes, despite his physical fatigue.

“I messed up. Okay? I shoulda told him when I told Mabel. I shoulda told ‘em  _ both  _ the night you came back. Why I didn’t, I - I’m not sure. That was pre-’memory wipe’ me, probably thinkin’ I’d thrown enough at the kids back then. I probably wasn’t plannin’ on them findin’ out ‘til after I was dead.” Ford gave him a knowing look, and he shrugged. “What? I could do it, I’m a pro at it. I kept  _ you  _ a secret for thirty years.”

“You couldn’t fool me, Stanley,” the elder twin said as he folded his arms, drawing himself up straighter. “Those children resemble you far too closely to just be some obscure relatives. Not only that, but…” His face fell a bit, his weary stance now equilateral to his twin’s. “Dipper has a drive - a courage and  _ passion _ when it comes to his family that I never seemed to have. He was afraid to leave Mabel behind last summer when I offered to mentor him, and I foolishly tried to detract his feelings with my own blind ambition. When in reality, he was the one teaching  _ me  _ something far more valuable.” 

Ford smiled, draping an arm around Stan’s hunched shoulders. “He gets that from you, Stan. It’s so unmistakably you - it’s in Mabel as well. And quite frankly, I’m jealous.”

“Hey, if there’s anythin’ I’ve learned - and, uh, re-learned - over the past year, it’s that you got some of it in ya too, Sixer.” They had wandered into the living room now and plopped down exhaustedly on the sofa Soos had gotten secondhand while they were away. Stan removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, “When all those memories came rushin’ back in after losin’ ‘em, I knew I needed to hang onto ‘em. I always used to see ‘em as somethin’ I wished never happened. But if they didn’t happen … those two  _ amazing _ kids wouldn’t even be here.”

“You reap what you sow,” Ford said softly. “And in your case, the fruits of your bounty have exceeded the expectations of all. Including mine.”

“So now that it’s all out in the open, and it turns out the kids don’t hate me for it … I guess, ya know, it’s better to hang onto all the bad stuff, share it, and learn from it, rather than live in denial over it.”

Ford gazed at his brother for a moment as if seeing him for the first time. “That’s very mature, Stanley.”

“Yeah, well - I have a few of ‘em every once in awhile.”

 

\---

 

Dipper couldn’t help but find himself hesitating in the middle of the bedroom. He had made it in just fine, there was no issue there. Quick, brief steps, easy opening the door, but when to actually face Mabel. Well, that was a little different. And truth be told, he was torn now.

Should he wake her up, talk to her about everything?

No… that’d be a childish thing to do. He was already drained anyhow, he didn’t have time for any more debacle.

So, he flopped onto the decades old twin mattress, rolling on his back and staring at the ceiling. He tried to think hard, but found it strenuous. Did Mabel lie to him? Technically yes, and technically no. Was it for a good reason? Sort of. There never was a clear excuse for lying…

… he wasn’t mad at her. Frustrated, yes. But definitely, undoubtedly confused.

With a sigh, Dipper rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. Maybe, if only for a few hours, dreams could make more sense than reality.


	4. the final encore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to close the curtains and open up a new door.

_ I’ve heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason, bringing something we must learn, _

 

_ And we are led to those who help us most grow - if we let them, and we help them in return, _

 

_ Well, I don’t know if I believe that’s true, but I know I’m who I am today because I knew you. _

 

Typically, Dipper would have never found himself sleeping so late. Then again, when he usually pulled an all-nighter, it was to finish a thriller novel - not unravel a mystery within his own family.  _ Ugh _ . It felt so far away and so close at the same time.

He was starting to wonder if he’d dreamt most of it. Then he rolled over to face the nightstand where the lamp sat, and saw the yellowed paper resting beside it. His father’s birth certificate, which Stan had let him hang onto as a memento. Sitting up in bed slowly so the creaking wouldn’t wake his still slumbering sister, he took it in his hands and stared down at it in his lap.  _ Lincoln Carlton Pines. Father - Stanley Pines _ . Nope, definitely not a dream.

Blinking a few times, he could still feel dried tears stuck in his lashes and scrubbed them away with his fingers. He wasn’t angry anymore. Well, okay, he  _ was _ , but certainly nowhere near the exploding peak he was at much earlier that morning. He wasn’t the least bit content either. Dipper just felt … empty. One of the biggest mysteries of his family was solved, but he wasn’t feeling any euphoria or closure. He was much more at a loss.

Were things going to be awkward now between him and Stan? Was Dipper going to feel like he needed to treat him differently now that he knew they were all closer in blood than he realized? How could everything still be the same and feel so different at the same time? It was all too confusing. And not because Dipper didn’t have answers, he’d gotten enough of those and more. But because he didn’t know how to feel about all of this.

A fluttering shadow caught his attention out the corner of his eye, and Dipper turned to see a cardinal land on the outside attic windowsill. Rather than a brief head-jerk before it promptly flew away, the bird took its time staring around the attic room before its eyes landed on Dipper. Dipper peered back, and for a while there was this surreal moment of them sharing a glance.

_ Why a cardinal?  _ Weren’t they normally cold-weather birds? Dipper shrugged and turned back to the aged certificate in his hands.  _ Mother - Carla McCorkle _ . She’d died really young, and Stan had trouble talking about it. After all these years, he was still nursing a broken heart over her that would probably never be whole again. Dipper thought back to those photos he’d seen. She seemed really in love with Stan, and was so pretty.

_ Ugh, Dipper cut it out _ , he scolded himself with a shudder.  _ That’s your grandma you’re thinking about. Who looks like your sister, by the way. _ Shaking his thoughts clear, he looked back at the window. The cardinal was still there, challenging him to a staring contest, as if it had nothing better to do all day.  _ Cardinal … Carla … wait, no way. _

Could it be? Maybe? Being a practical thinker who didn’t submit himself to an idea without factual evidence, Dipper was sort of half-and-half on the idea of reincarnation. Taking a chance, he slowly put his finger to the window. The bird tapped the pane where his finger rested lightly with its beak before finally taking off in flight.  _ Weird. If that was a sign, Grandma Carla, you need to work on getting your message across clearer. _

The mattress on the bed across from his creaked as Mabel finally rolled over, cracking her eyes open in the bright sunlight. “Mmm… what time is it?”

“Past noon,” Dipper guessed, folding up the paper in his lap. Judging by the puffiness under her eyes, he figured she didn’t exactly have a rip-roaring fun night either.

Propping herself up on her elbow, Mabel peered at him through squinted eyes. “What’s that?”

“Dad’s birth certificate.”

“Oh…” Throwing the purple comforter off, she reached down to put her slipper socks on before padding over to her brother’s bed. Dipper wordlessly handed her the crisp worn paper as she sat on the edge of his bed, her eyes scanning over it. A warm smile spread across her face, revealing newly straightened teeth. “Whoa. It’s like -- now it feels real. Ya know?”

“Yeah… sure does.”

Mabel looked up and saw he wasn’t smiling. Not that she had been expecting that he would, given how they’d parted ways last night. She gazed at him with big imploring eyes. “Grunkle Ford told me not to worry, but I still gotta know … are you mad at me, Dipper?”

“No … yes --  _ no _ , I -- I don’t know.” Dipper sighed, running a hand through the full body of his tangled hair, briefly exposing the birthmark on his upper forehead. “What do you do when you find out there were even  _ more _ lies under the lies you already exposed? I know I should be like you and be happy that Stan’s our real grandpa, but--”

“But you’re not me,” Mabel finished for him, and Dipper glanced up at her, surprised. “You get  _ way _ more mad than me about being lied to. ‘ _ Trust No One _ ’, remember?”

Dipper shivered a bit, thinking of the bolded black ink strokes in the now destroyed journal he’d followed so faithfully the previous summer. “Mabel, I don’t wanna think like that anymore. But after what happened last night, it’s hard to stop. I mean, what  _ else _ has Stan done that we don’t know about? Did he kill someone in Colombia and that’s how he wound up in prison? And what about Great Uncle Ford when he was in the portal? Did he obliterate an entire dimension like Bill did?” He shook his head, drawing his knees up to his chest. “There’s so many mysteries in our own family. Who knows what else we’ll find out about down the line.”

“Yeah, maybe Mom and Dad are secret agents who track down alien conspiracy theories or something,” Mabel giggled, punching him playfully in the arm to loosen him up. But Dipper kept his head bowed, staring at his knees, and her smile faded. “C’mon bro, you took a trip through my mind--”

“Well, Bill’s version of your mind,” he pointed out.

She shrugged, “But you know by now that just ‘cause I  _ look  _ happy doesn’t always mean I am.” She crawled beside him against the headboard, hugging her knees as well. “I was scared when Stan told me. And kinda mad, but mostly sad. I was scared again last night, when you ran downstairs to find him. I thought after he told you the truth, you’d never talk to him, or me, again.” She bit her lip as a tear rolled down her cheek, leaving a splotch on her nightgown. “I feel like sometimes when you get that mad, you forget how much we love you, Dipper. And even though I pick on you and call you a dork, the thing I hate the most is seeing you hurt like you were last night. And I hated it so much ‘cause I couldn’t do anything to make it better. ‘Cause it was my fault.”

“I know … I felt the exact same way when you got upset over me taking Ford’s apprenticeship.”

Mabel side-eyed him with a sniffle. “I got so stupid about that, I caused the apocalypse.”

“You weren’t stupid, Mabel, you were right.” Dipper shifted so he was sitting cross-legged facing her. “I was on such a high that day, I didn’t stop to really think about the idea of spending my teen years without the one person I’ve spent my entire life with.” He cracked a small smile, “Now that I’ve been through eighth grade, I -- I can’t imagine doing it without you.”

“Yeah, you’d probably  _ still _ be trapped in the janitor’s closet by the pool right now if it wasn’t for my mad bobby pin lock-picking skills,” Mabel smirked in remembrance.

“Where’d you learn how to do that anyway--?”

“ _ Stan _ ,” they said together with a chuckle as Dipper smacked his head with his palm. “Not just school stuff though, I mean … the times when we both have those nightmares.” He rubbed the back of his neck, gazing down in his lap again. “Mom and Dad don't get just how bad they are, or why we end up sharing a bed sometimes.” He squeezed his eyes shut, “They didn’t see Bill almost kill you. Right next to me.”

Mabel instinctively reached out, resting her hand on the small of his back as if to assure him she was still there. “And they weren’t there when Stan couldn’t remember my name. Or when you had Bill’s eyes instead of yours.” Her lower lip trembled as Dipper’s dewed eyes met hers. “But I’m glad I'm not alone when I have those bad dreams.”

“Me too.” Dipper’s voice cracked, and not from puberty this time. “I’m sorry I yelled at you last night, Mabel, I really am. I’m mad you didn’t tell me, but … I don’t wanna lose the most important person in my life over this.”

“Ya can’t get rid of me that easy, Dippin’ Sauce,” Mabel tried to wisecrack through her tears, but it was too late. Overcome by affection and a million different emotions, they wrapped their arms around each other in the world’s most sincere sibling hug, choking out sobs against each other’s shoulders. There would always be cracks in their hearts. They would hurt each other, and they were going to hurt plenty more as they got older. These were the forces in the universe trying to tear them apart. But it was how they bounced back from those tougher times that proved just how strong their bond truly was.

 

* * *

 

“Wake up, Misters Pineses!”

Stan grunted as he pried his eyes open, awaking to the sounds of sizzling meat in the kitchen and kidlets scampering around the living room with Waddles squealing after them.  _ Wait, living room? What the hell am I doin’ in the living room? _

Inhaling the salty savory air, he opened his mouth to yell at Ford to quit showing off his gourmet skills and let him make breakfast for once before he felt something large and heavy on his shoulder, weighing down the whole right side of his body. Turning his head with some difficulty, he saw Ford was lying against him, still dead asleep.

And then he remembered. The fight with Dipper last night. Telling Dipper the truth. Ford approaching him afterward. They must have fallen asleep while talking on the couch, still sitting upright. No wonder every part of his nearly mid-sixties body was screaming in agony. But if Ford was here, then--

“Hey Mel! How’s the French toast coming?!”

“Almost done! Though I could use my server right about now--”

“Coming!”

“Soos? Melody?” Stan sat up straighter as his brother began to shift beside him. “What’re ya doin’ here? It’s Sunday.”

“Aw c’mon, I’ve been wantin’ an excuse to make you two breakfast ever since you got back from your boat trip,” Soos replied cheerfully, carrying a plate piled high with fried bread over to the kitchen table. “So when I came by to check up on the Shack and saw no one was up yet, I thought ‘Hey Soos! Why don’t ya surprise the Pines with French toast and sausage?’ ‘Good idea, Soos!’ ‘Thanks, Soos!’”

“Alright, alright, we get it,” Stan waved him off tiredly. Yep, it was all coming back now: Dipper knew. Now every remaining member of the Pines family knew, including the honorary members in the kitchen. And somehow Stan only felt  _ slightly  _ better. Two paper plates were held out to him, and he took them, placing one on the table in between the sofa and recliner.

_ Christ _ , falling asleep while sitting down hurt… along with his heart, but Stan really didn’t wanna spend this morning depressed. He should have been happy. He got it all over and done with.

“Whoa,” Soos said slowly, pursing his lips. “I have never seen you that sad when you have French toast and smiley sausage. Somethin’s up.”

True, the sausage patty did have ketchup squirted onto it in the shape of a smiley face. Stan managed a pathetic shrug, nudging away the anxious kidlets that had spilled into the living room at the smell of food. He didn’t bother asking for a fork, or correcting Soos about how he didn’t eat pork, and picked up a piece of French toast, nibbling on the crust. And Stan had to admit, a good breakfast did cheer him up a little.

“I’m fine,” he assured. “Long night.” He heard a yelp from the kitchen and winced. “Might wanna make sure there isn’t a revolt in there. The pigs might get mad seein’ their distant relatives gettin’ baked alive.”

Soos peered into the kitchen, letting out a distressed noise and running back in.

Stan couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, and he shook his head. It almost felt normal again. But it was a new normal, and he was going to stick with it.

“Hey, Poindexter,” he said gruffly, gently kicking his brother in the shin. “Wake up. We got breakfast in bed.”

Ford groaned, “Five more minutes, Mom. I was up late studying …”

“Ma’s been dead twenty-five years now,” Stan retorted, slightly raising his voice. “Now open your eyes before I slap ya with a sausage.”

“Well,” Ford grumbled, his eyes fluttering open. “That wouldn’t be the first time I heard that when I woke up.”

Stan grimaced, shoving the other plate into his brother’s lap as they sat together on the couch. “Save your weird dimension stories for when we’re bored out of our skulls,” he retorted, managing a weary smirk.

Ford perked up at the smell and groaned as he stood up. “The kids cooked for us?” he asked.

“Define ‘kids’,” Stan replied, already on his second slice of French toast.

A bit of clammoring and cluttering was heard in the kitchen, along with some voices:

“Mel, did you just feed a pig sausage?”

“Oh my god, I’m a terrible person! That’s probably his cousin or something.”

“At least he liked it?”

Ford chuckled to himself, shaking his head. He was about to retreat to the kitchen to fetch some proper cutlery until he stopped, looking around. “Although, where  _ are  _ Mabel and Dipper?”

A grunt escaped Stan. “Probably still dozing off,” he said. “They had a long night.”

“I think we all did,” Ford assured. His small grin spoke volumes, and he gave his brother one last nod before heading out of the living room. And now it was just Stan. Stan, alone with himself and his thoughts - what a bad combination  _ that  _ was.

He reached in between the cushions, and as expected, found the remote. After hitting it a few times, it finally got the decrepit TV to flicker on and Stan flipped to the news.

Usual stuff, a puppy fell down a well and it was probably going to rain next Sunday, that sort of thing.

But despite all of the chaos in the kitchen, the TV blasting and his hearing going, Stan would never miss the sound of footsteps heading down the rickety stairs. He side-eyed the doorway, pretending to play it off as nonchalant when he noticed Dipper and Mabel head in.

“Good morning,” Mabel piped up in her usual cheery manner. She hopped up on the sofa, yanking Stan into a sudden hug. “Can I say Grandpa now?” she said in a loud whisper.

Stan definitely did  _ not  _ tear up at that - no, it was the dumb sparkles on her sweater. One of those got in his eyes.

“If you’re both fine with it,” he said, trying his hardest to mutter. Yet there was no denying the delight in his voice.

Dipper was smiling, despite it all. He managed a halfhearted shrug and nodded. “Just give it time,” he said in the simplest tone of voice that actually felt almost meaningful. Sure, there’d be a slight edge. He was a cracked teacup at this point, but it was nothing that couldn’t be fixed. Super glue did exist, after all - and his glue was Mabel.

“Then goood morning, Grandpa!” Mabel trilled, her mood suddenly soaring. She hugged Stan a little harder, and then paused. “Where did you get the smiling sausage?”

“Soos and Melody,” Stan said, offering the patty to her … his granddaughter.

_ God _ . It felt  _ so  _ good to no longer lie to himself and correct his every word.

Mabel cheered as she stuffed the piece of meat in her mouth, rushing into the kitchen with Dipper on her heels. However, she didn’t notice her brother slow down a little in front of Stan - their  _ grandfather _ . Yeah. That was definitely going to take getting used to. It was an unsaid fact.

“Hey Grunkle Ford!” Mabel called, practically bouncing in her seat at the table, beaming as Soos set out a bottle of Mountie Man syrup. “Ever tried sausage with syrup before?”

“Actually no, I can’t say that I have,” Ford replied, sitting beside her. Mabel’s jaw dropped open, putting a hand to her heart as if he’d just said kittens were going extinct.

“Gimme your plate,” she said hastily, snatching it from him without waiting for a response.

“Mabel, not  _ everyone  _ likes to drown their food in sugar,” Dipper rolled his eyes, shooting his uncle an apologetic look.

“Just a little, I wanna see if he likes it,” Mabel protested, squirting a large dollop in an empty spot on Ford’s plate.

“Dipper, I can assure you I had to stomach  _ far  _ worse over the past thirty years,” Ford said to his slightly annoyed nephew. “For example, the food in Dimension 6.75*made you vomit profusely for forty-eight hours.”

“Eww,” Melody wrinkled her nose, dropping her fork on her plate, temporarily losing her appetite.

“ Touché ,” Dipper said with a short nod as Mabel slid Ford’s plate back to him. Taking up his fork, Ford cut off a piece of sausage patty and dipped it in the syrup, promptly popping it in his mouth. Mabel grinned toothily as he chewed slowly, awaiting his verdict.

Ford’s eyebrows raised, the corners of his mouth turning upward. “Why Mabel, you’re right -- this is delightful! The perfect combination of sweet and savory.”

“Yay!” Mabel cheered, nudging her uncle. “I knew you’d like it.” She smirked at Dipper on her other side, “Told ya.”

“Just don’t try Mabel Juice, unless you wanna choke on a plastic dinosaur,” Dipper shot back, and Mabel frowned.

“Fine, I’ll leave out the dinosaurs…” Ford chuckled at the two of them, before ruffling Mabel’s hair affectionately.

Dipper leaned forward, his eyes darting between them. “You two seem to be getting along.”

“Well, Mabel and I had a long talk last night while you were with Stan,” Ford said gently, putting an arm around Mabel’s shoulders. “It appears we have a lot more in common than I first realized.”

“Oh… that’s cool.” Dipper shrugged, feeling his heart twist a bit as his uncle kept his focus on his sister’s chatter.

“And later after we eat, maybe we can draw or do crafts!” Mabel smiled up at Ford admirably. “You’re really good at it. I mean, Dipper liked  _ reading  _ the journals, but I liked looking at the drawings.”

Ford’s heart swelled with rapture as he regarded her fondly, “Thank you, Mabel.”

“Hey, dude, you okay?” Soos looked at Dipper in a concerned manner, watching him stab his fork a little too roughly into his toast.

Dipper stood up quickly from the table, taking his plate. “I’m gonna go eat in the living room with Gru -- with Stan.” Everyone watched him go, bewildered  -- all except Ford, whose expression reflected his thoughts as the reason for Dipper’s recoiling behavior dawned on him. Mabel looked around the table as everyone’s eyes shifted to her, and she looked up at her uncle with large eyes.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked in a small voice.

“No Mabel, you didn’t do anything,” Ford shook his head. “I think I know what this is about...”

Out in the living room, Dipper plopped himself down on the floor in front of Stan’s recliner, barely acknowledging him as they both glued their eyes to the television. Stan had just finished up his plate, wiping his mouth off on the back of his wrist before glancing down at Dipper.

“Why’d you come out here?” Stan asked the top of his head, Dipper still stubbornly avoiding his gaze. “Sounded like you guys were havin’ fun.”

“It’s stupid, I don’t wanna talk about it,” Dipper muttered, his mouth half full of toast and syrup.

“Kid, listen, if this has to do with all the stuff I dumped on you last night, I don’t blame--”

“It’s not that,” Dipper cut him off. “Well -- okay, it  _ kinda _ is.” He set his plate down on the floor and shifted so he was looking back up at Stan, curling himself up into a ball again. “I feel so … confused. About how I should feel about this. And I wanted to get my mind off it today by doing stuff with Great Uncle Ford, down in the basement or out in the woods. You know, like last summer. But … he’s already got plans with Mabel.”

“You’re jealous,” Stan concluded bluntly.

“Told you it was stupid,” Dipper bowed his head, hiding his face ashamedly.

“Jealousy, and greed, made me lose your grandmother for good. Don’t be like me. It’s okay to feel that way, but don’t let it get the best of ya.” Stan shoved the footrest back into the chair and grunted as he leaned forward to Dipper’s level. “It’s not that my brother’s pushin’ you aside or anything. When we were on the boat, we’d get to talkin’ about you kids sometimes, and one night I was goin’ on and on about Mabel and all the crazy stuff she did last summer. And ya know, how we kinda found a friend in each other --  same way you and Ford did over that nerd board game.”

“Which I’m still gonna make you sit down and play with us one of these days,” Dipper smirked at him.

“ _ Yeesh _ , I’ll pass,” Stan rolled his eyes. “Anyways, Ford got real quiet while I kept talkin’ about your sister. I asked him what was wrong. Then he got this sad look in his eyes and said  _ ‘I just wish I’d gotten to know her better.’ _ I think he was feelin’ guilty that he spent so much time with you, he missed out on knowing her.”

“Aw  _ man… _ ” Dipper moaned, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. If he had felt bad before, he felt a hundred times worse now. “I should’ve known. Now they probably both think I’m a huge jerk.”

“That couldn’t be further from the truth.” They both looked around to see Ford standing in the threshold between the front hall and living room. Mabel stood beside him, twisting her hair in her hands with an ashamed expression identical to her brother’s.

“Dipper?” she began timidly. “We don’t have to do crafts today. If you wanna hang out with Grunkle Ford so you feel better, go ahead.”

“Nah,” Dipper shook his head instantly. “You guys go ahead. I’ll be okay for one day. I’m sure Soos and I can find something to do.”

“Hey, here’s an idea,” Stan piped up. “You two have your quality time today, and then tonight let’s all go out for dinner and bowling. Family bonding night, all six of us! Heck, Wendy can come too! Just -- just Wendy, not those annoying friends of hers.”

“Excellent idea!” Ford exclaimed happily. “I haven’t been bowling since high school.”

“And I can  _ still  _ beat your highest score, Sixer,” Stan challenged, pointing a finger at him which Ford good-naturedly returned.

“You’re on.” He knelt down next to Dipper, placing both hands on his shoulders. “I know that I see you as a friend and at one point a potential apprentice. But you are, first and foremost, my nephew, Dipper. And Mabel is my niece. There is more than enough room in my heart for both of you. And it’s full to bursting knowing that you both love me in return.”

Dipper leapt up into Ford’s arms, feeling two tears trickle out the corners of his eyes into his hair as Mabel also seized their uncle in a fierce hug from behind. “I know. Thanks for reminding me.”

A second summer, two sets of twins and a family closer than ever before.  So far, the next three months were looking far better than this time last year had.

 

_**~~~~** _

 

“Someone’s at the door!” Mabel yelled out late that afternoon as the doorbell sounded, even though everyone in the living room was within earshot.

“Not it!” she and Dipper both called at the same time, then glared at each other.

“I called first.”

“No, I definitely said it first.”

“I did!”

“You’re the one who called attention to it,  _ you  _ get the door!”

“Kids, shut up for a sec,” Stan interrupted them, sitting up from his lazy position on the couch. “Your grandpa knows exactly how to decide this.” He began to point back and forth between them, “Eenie, meenie, miney…” And suddenly swung his index finger across the room to indicate his twin brother. “ _ You _ .”

“Stanley, that’s cheating!” Ford whined like they were little boys again as Dipper and Mabel laughed.

“It’s  _ your  _ house, right Poindexter?” Stan grinned playfully.

“Yes,” Ford rolled his eyes, his bones creaking as he got up from the floor. He grumbled irritably to himself as he shuffled into the front hall, his boots against the wood floor drowning out the noise from the TV. “Who on earth would be calling today anyway? Everyone knows the Shack is closed on Sundays--”

Ford froze as he opened the door. He found himself faced with a fairly young man - mid-thirties, probably pushing forty. He never officially met this man, but just by looks, he felt like he did.  _ God _ . Every-color eyes and a crooked nose he had only ever seen on a crying little girl in a black dress. And flashes here and there from when his brother showed up on a bitter winter night, only much more well-dressed.

“Uh,” the man hesitated. “Dad, why are you dressed like--?”

“No, no, no,” Ford interrupted. “I - I’m not your father. I, uh--” He held his hand, waving all six fingers. “You probably only know stories about me, Alex. Same goes for myself regarding, uh...” He cleared his throat, offering his hand for a shake. “I’m your Uncle Ford.”

“Lex is fine.”

“Right,” Ford trailed off, dropping his hand. “Um, come on in. This is quite the surprise.” He led his nephew through the Shack and into the living quarters. “It’s nice to officially meet you.”

“Yeah,” Lex stammered. “Never thought it’d be like this.”

Ford chuckled. “Likewise,” he said. He paused, holding out his arm to halt the younger man. “Just … wait a moment.”

He peered into the living room, and what a family it was. Stan with the kids sitting on each side of him, Soos in the recliner and Melody sitting in his lap, the kidlets running around chasing each other and apparently, Wendy had snuck in through the back, now sitting on the floor. Biological and honorary, all mixed together.

“Stan, there’s a visitor for you,” Ford spoke up.

Stan groaned; “If it’s those weird boy band singers diggin’ in my trash again--”

Ford scoffed and walked in with the familiar stranger behind him.

That was when the room fell so quiet, one could hear a pin drop. Literally. Mabel had let her sewing kit fall from her hands, and the materials scattered everywhere as she glanced to her brother, and they both looked at Stan, who was in shock and awe.

‘ _ Why’s Dad here?’ _ Dipper mouthed.

Mabel could only shrug in response.

“Lex,” Stan said raspily, his mouth and throat suddenly bone-dry. “What are you doin’ here?”

“Uh, TechCon in Seattle, I - I’m just swinging by,” Lex admitted. “I wanted to talk.”

There was more silence, everyone looking around waiting for someone to break the ice. Oddly enough, the first to speak was Melody.

“Soos, hon -- didn’t you say a little while ago that you wanted to take a walk?”

“Huh? I didn’t s--oh  _ right _ . Right yeah, the walk!” Soos hastily corrected his puzzled reply when his wife elbowed him hard in the gut. “That walk I definitely said I wanted to take! Let’s do it!” The couple jumped up from their reclined positions and headed for the door just as Wendy rose to follow suit.

“I need to run home and, uh… make sure my brothers didn’t trash the place.” Walking past Dipper and Mabel, whose jaws were still hanging open, she mouthed ‘ _ Text me later _ ’ as she exited the Shack.

Soos looked over his shoulder at the Pines still in the living room as he made to leave through the backway. Melody noticed and laced both of her arms through his beefy one.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just hope Mr. Pines -- er, younger Mr. Pines -- isn’t too hard on ‘im.” He sighed, removing his cap briefly to wipe his sweaty forehead before putting it back on. “I know what it’s like to have a dad who’s not around. A dad who abandoned me…” He trailed off as Melody rested her head on his shoulder, rubbing his arm. “But the thing is, Stan didn’t  _ really  _ abandon him. He was always there for his son. His son just… didn’t know he was his dad, ya know?”

“I know,” Melody soothed. “We all know. And I think the twins’ dad knows, too.” She smiled encouragingly, “Let’s just wait and see how it pans out.” Closing her fingers around his, they followed Wendy outside, hoping the Shack was still in one piece when they returned.

 

**_~~~~_ **

 

Stan was the first to get up after the others had left, not once breaking eye contact with Lex. “Ford … why don’t you take the kids and--?”

“They don’t have to leave,” Lex said quietly, adjusting his glasses anxiously. “I’m not here to fight, Dad. I just wanted to clear the air.”

He had been able to choke the tears back down every single time Mabel called him ‘Grandpa’. But not when he heard that word fall from his son’s lips for the first time, directed at him. Face to face, rather than over a phone line. ‘ _ Dad _ ’. Stan covered his mouth and nose with his hand, shielding his face from view as it began to crumple. What was  _ wrong _ with him? He felt like he’d cried more in two days than the past three decades.

“Don’t cry, Grandpa,” came Mabel’s tearful voice, feeling her small hands wrap around his rough, coarse one. Dipper had gone over to his father, who similarly kept his head bowed to hide his face. The resemblance was uncanny … how had he never  _ seen  _ it before?

“Sorry I kinda crashed you kids’ vacation,” Lex said thickly, running a hand over his son’s head.

“It’s okay,” Dipper nodded. “It’s uh -- it’s been a lot for me to take in, too.” Lex smiled, his eyes shining behind his glasses as he pulled Dipper close in a one-armed hug. His gaze traveled back up to Stan, who had regained his composure enough to look him in the eye again.

“So everyone knows now,” the younger man said a bit louder. “You don’t have to hide up here in Oregon with your secrets anymore.” He released Dipper and stepped closer, Stan releasing Mabel’s hands as well. “I always knew there were more secrets. The circumstances surrounding my father’s ‘death in a car crash’ that  _ no one  _ could elaborate on. Not even my Uncle Stan, the act you still kept up even after my mom died. But...” He gulped once as his voice caught, and Dipper and Mabel shot each other a panic-stricken glance. It freaked the twins out a little as, suddenly, their dad looked much more like a vulnerable child than they’d ever seen him before. “You could’ve told me. I--I was a good kid, I wouldn’t have told anyone if you didn’t want me to.”

“You _ were _ a good kid,” Stan said softly, clenching his fists to restrain himself from grabbing Lex and crushing him to his chest. “But I couldn’t risk lettin’ you know about the real Stanford -- the government was hot on my trail from the portal readings. It was bad enough when the kids got caught in the fray last summer. The chance that somethin’ could happen to you and Michelle was too much of a gamble for me.”

“Mich was the one who convinced me to stop off here,” Lex went on, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. “I haven’t been sleeping well since we talked on the phone. She thought this would be good for both of us.”

“Always knew I liked her,” Stan flashed a small smile. “She takes good care of ya.”

“Daddy?” Mabel went over to the couch and cleared her half-knitted sweaters and sewing supplies off the cushions. “You should sit here next to Grandpa Stan.” Stan went over to the vacant couch and sat down gingerly, hoping there weren’t any stray needles, and gestured for Lex to sit in the seat beside him. He hesitated, not wanting to seem too intrusive on his dad’s and uncle’s property, but Mabel went over and took him by the hand to pull him towards the seat.

“Thanks, princess,” he smiled at his daughter, and Mabel beamed.  _ ‘Princess’ _ was exclusively for Dad to use, just like  _ ‘sweetie’ _ and  _ ‘pumpkin’ _ were Stan’s. She kissed her dad on the cheek just as Dipper came up beside them. Reaching into his vest pocket, he pulled out the folded-up aged birth certificate and handed it to him. Mabel also placed Stan and Ford’s graduation day photo in his lap before leaving to stand with Dipper and Great Uncle Ford in the doorway. Lex and Stan still kept a good few inches between them, as if afraid to invade each other’s personal space, but at least their shoulders seemed to have finally untensed.

Lex shook his head as he read over the certificate bearing his birth name. “The more I go over and over this all in my head, the more I think about how  _ furious _ I should be. Any guy in my position would be. I can’t be though, because after all this time, and taking all these years into account… it makes  _ so  _ much sense.” He looked up at Stan, his eyes smiling even though the rest of his face still looked distressed.

“Lex, even though I couldn’t tell ya the truth for years, I never wanted you to think for a second that I wasn’t lookin’ out for you,” Stan said. “My own dad was always ‘round, but it never really felt like he was there. He made me feel so small when I couldn’t measure up to your Uncle Ford. He threw me out on my rear when he finally gave up on me.” He paused. “I did see you one time, as my son. The day I gave you up to Shermie. You were only a couple years old and I rocked you while you slept, just for a few hours before I had to run again. And I promised you and myself that I was  _ never  _ gonna make you feel as worthless as my dad made me feel. Whoever you grew up to be, I was gonna support ya. And geez, look at ya now.”

He smiled widely, clapping a hand on his shoulder and holding it there, thankful that Lex didn’t flinch away. A long overdue reunion between father and son. It was no cryfest of hugs and laughter, but that wasn’t them. And that was alright. Things were working out the way they should be now.

“Yeah,” Lex choked up a little, before clearing his throat. “Uh,” He hesitated, taking the certificate and photograph, folding them up to fit in the top pocket of his flannel shirt. “Thanks.” A rueful laugh escaped him. “Come to think of it, you kind of were more like a dad to me than -- uh -- Uncle Sherman ever was. Always writing and calling, coming to Jersey for Hannukah … ” He trailed off, his voice breaking a little. “Being there for my kids’ birth.”

“Hey, no son of mine is a sap,” Stan joked, but his gaze couldn’t have been more sincere. “I was keepin’ a low profile up here so nobody found me out. But if you think I wasn’t gonna move heaven and earth to make sure I saw my grandbabies for the first time, then you don’t know me at all.”

“But I did know you. I always have…” Lex reached up and hung onto his father’s arm. “In hindsight, nothing’s really changed at all. Those fuzzier moments when I was a kid just became a lot clearer. My earliest memories… I remember a lady’s voice singing to me. I can only bring up blurry flashes of a face, but… that  _ had  _ to be my real mom.”

Stan’s throat released a noise somewhere between a gasp and a sob, not caring that the tears were about to fall. “It was … Ma said Carla’d sing ya to sleep. She loved ya as much as I do,” His voice wavered dangerously. “I  _ know  _ she did. That’s why… we both had to give you your best chance.”

“I don’t know this for sure, Dad, but it’s something I wanna believe.” Lex paused, closing his eyes for a moment as if digging back in the furthest recesses of his memories. “Her voice was so sad. I don’t think she hated you. I think she always hoped someday, you’d be able to come back.”

“My  _ Carla _ ,” Stan wept, flinging his glasses into his lap before he swiped his arm across his streaming eyes. All that wasted time, all the mistakes he’d made, and the woman who claimed his heart had carried a torch for him until the bitter end. And now at long last, the only piece of her that he had left was sitting across from him on the couch, smiling that smile of hers with her wavy brown curls atop his head. He had been too late for Carla, but he’d finally come back to his son.

As Lex kept his grip firm on Stan, he glanced over his shoulder at his children spying in the doorway. Dipper had his arm around Mabel, who was sobbing with her hands over her mouth as tears spilled from her eyes. Even Uncle Ford was wiping away tears from behind his glasses, with a look on his face that could only be interpreted as  _ satisfied _ .

The younger man turned back to Stan as his tears slowed, looking at the position they were in: Him clinging to Stan’s arm, Stan still clutching his shoulder. “Well, we’re already halfway there, so…” And before Stan could properly prepare himself for the moment he’d been waiting forty years for, Lex pulled his father into a tight embrace, burying his face in the front of his shirt.

“Yes… hug it out,” Mabel hiccuped, wiping her nose on the shoulder of Dipper’s vest. She watched as Stan’s entire face light up like a Fourth of July fireworks display before engulfing her father in his arms just as closely. She let out a little cry of happiness as she hugged her brother around the neck, squishing her wet cheek against his. “That’s all you gotta do -- just  _ hug it out _ .”

“So you really think they’re gonna be alright?” Dipper asked in a voice so thick it was clear he was fighting back his own tears.

Ford nodded without hesitation, “Yes Dipper. I really think we’re  _ all  _ going to be all right.”

Mabel sniffled as she turned to her great uncle, flinging her arms around his middle. Her radiant joyful face streaked with tears beamed up at him. “I’m just  _ so  _ glad everybody’s finally happy.”

Ford bent down to her level to hold her close, scooping Dipper into their little hug-fest with his other arm. “Me too, Mabel. It’s been a  _ long _ time coming.”

Stan cleared his throat roughly after several long cleansing minutes and reluctantly released Lex. “I, uh -- I’d say I wanna start makin’ up for lost time, but … Lex, you’re a grown man with a great job, a great wife and two great teenage kids. You don’t need your Dad anymore.”

“I’m  _ always _ gonna need my Dad,” Lex protested, keeping his hands latched onto Stan’s shoulders. “I’m the one who needs to make it up to  _ you _ .”

“No kid, I don’t deserve--”

“ _ Yes, _ you do. And I’m not a kid anymore, so you can’t tell me what to do, old man.”

Lex’s first time back-sassing him as his son -- Stan was so proud he almost lost it all over again. “Alright. Ya had me at ‘old man.’”

“You come see us in Piedmont any time you want, especially on holidays,” Lex said. “I’m serious, I don’t want you to be a stranger anymore.” He looked back across the room at Ford, “You too, Uncle Ford.”

“I’d love to Lex, but -- heh, well--” Stan chuckled, but his tone was saddened. “Stanley Pines ain’t allowed in California anymore. Don’t ask why, ‘cause  _ I  _ don’t even remember.”

“Oh,” Lex’s face fell, thinking this through. “Well … then I guess we’re gonna have to come to you.”

“You can’t take that much time off work,” Stan shook his head insistently.

“I’ll make time, Dad -- I do most of my work from home anyway. For Mich, it might be harder, but she’ll come when she can.” Lex smiled over at his twins with the unmistakable grin of a loving father, a look Stan now wore contagiously. “What do you think, kids? Wanna spend your Thanksgivings and winter breaks with your Grandpa and Grunkle?”

“I think you know the answer to that, Dad,” Dipper said, he and Mabel bounding over to the couch and leaping into Lex and Stan’s laps. Ford brought up the rear and joined the pile of Pines by sitting beside his brother on the arm of the sofa. It wasn’t a picturesque scene, with all the bodies and arms tangled around each other in laughter, smiles and even more tears, but there was an endless amount of love. And despite both minor and major obstacles, that love was only going to grow from here on out.

The front door banged open suddenly and the family immediately sat up as Soos came running into the living room with Melody and Wendy at his heels.

“Mr. Pines is the greatest guy ever!” Soos shouted desperately. “He hired me when I was just a kid! He was, like, the father figure I never had! Sure - he might’ve committed tax fraud for thirty years, but he did it out of love!”

“Sorry,” Melody panted from running after her husband, smiling apologetically.

“We tried to stop him, but he’s  _ shockingly _ fast,” Wendy added.

Lex was taken aback  for a moment, then smiled knowingly. “So this must be the famous ‘Soos’ the kids told me so much about.”

“The new and improved Mr. Mystery,” Stan remarked warmly.

Soos glanced from Stan to Lex, then to the kids hugging them in their laps. “Wait … so everything’s cool? You’re not gonna, like, be mad at him forever for lying to you?”

“He was  _ really  _ worried,” Melody explained, patting Soos’ arm. “So worried he ran a half a mile back here ‘cause he couldn’t take the suspense anymore.”

“Yeah, I think we’re ‘cool’,” Lex smiled over at his father. “‘Cause you’re right. He did everything out of love for this family.”

“And we mean  _ whole  _ family!” Mabel emphasized, spreading her arms wide to indicate everyone in  the room, at which the three honorary members grinned widely. “Hey! Doesn’t that mean Dad should come bowling with us tonight?”

“Let’s not keep your father much longer,” Ford said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “He does have business in Seattle--”

“Actually, I don’t technically have to be there until tomorrow,” Lex interrupted as he and Stan both stood. “And bowling with my dad sounds kinda fun.”

“Well then,” Stan put an arm around Lex and his other around Soos, bringing his biological and surrogate son together at last. “I’d say Pines Family Fun Night is a go.”

“And,” Dipper added quietly to Mabel, throwing an arm around her shoulders, “so is the best summer of our lives.”

“Mystery Twins?” Mabel held out her fist, and Dipper lightly bumped it.

“Mystery Twins.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! It's been quite the ride, so thank you. We appreciate it and hope you enjoyed the story.

**Author's Note:**

> please go give their blog some love too <3 remember, pinesonfire.tumblr.com!!! they're rlly rad.
> 
> Please comment, kudos, etc! :D


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